Man of Honour, Woman of Worth
by SepticLovebite
Summary: She'd only ever taken out one Walker. One.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note:

Hey thurrrr guys! So this is going to be multi-chaptered! No set amount yet, but it's something that is mentioned frequently in the reviews so I thought I would give it a go. I am going to make this less fluffy than the usual. I hope. It's so damn hard. Thank you for all the reviews on my past works, I read every one.

TWDTWDTWD

He had avoided speaking to Carol for days. Not an easy task when half the time she sat behind him on his bike, her knees touching his waist, her hands clutching the fisting the front of his jacket tightly.

At first he was angry with her. He wasn't anyone's fucking henchman. What did it matter if Rick didn't tell them about them all carrying the infection? Everyone got their brain smashed in after they died because they only ever died from Walkers. It didn't change anything. There wasn't a cure for it. Rick had never done wrong by this group. Sure, he disagreed on a ton of shit he did, but as far as ex-cops went, Rick was alright. He was pissed with her for doubting his judgement on Rick.

The anger didn't last. He replayed the conversation beside the fire that first night out of the farm and he realised a little more about what she meant. She trusted him. She was calling him a man of honour. He didn't realise it at the time. But when he asked her what she wanted, he wanted to know more than that. He wanted to know if she wanted to live or die, because honestly, he didn't know. He thought maybe she did, after he picked her up from running from the farm. She ran, didn't she? Maybe it was just a reflex, he wasn't sure.

Now, he was just tired of all the shit. They'd been running for a week. Never stopping for more than a few hours. They stuck to the open roads, scavenging only from abandoned cars and small buildings on the road side. They needed somewhere better and they needed it fast. The nights were getting cold. They were travelling in a convoy of three cars and his bike and all crammed into the cars to sleep at night.

She was right, she was a burden. It wasn't her fault. She didn't have survival skills, she never needed them. She had someone who made decisions for her, took away her choices. Maybe it was time to change that.

TWDTWDTWD

Carol regretted what she said about Rick. She was scared and it made her blurt out things that she couldn't articulate very well. She didn't like secrets. There was no room for lies and mistruths in this world. Seeing how tortured he was though, over the death of Shane, the way Lori and Carl avoided him like the plague, that was devastating to watch. She'd apologised. He did little more than look up at her and nod in response. She figured that was as good as it was going to get and it was a little more than she deserved.

She needed these people. She needed looking after her. If she meant anything she said to Daryl, it was that she was a burden. He didn't deny it, so she knew it to be true. That man never candycoated or lied about anything. Sure, she helped the entire group on a day to day basis. She was probably busier than most of them. She cooked, she cleaned, washed clothes, tended wounds. She was a housewife to all of them and she never begrudged doing any of it for a minute. But the reality was, anyone could do it. If they had to, they would do it. Protecting herself, however, was something she couldn't do on her own.

She'd only ever taken out one Walker. _One_. It was right at the beginning, before they even knew what Walkers really were and this particular one came after Sophia. It was instinct, brutal and true, and she didn't hesitate to run her bread knife through it's brain. It was pure luck that she managed to take it out before it bit her, definitely no skill involved. Now, she cowered in the corner whilst others took the risks. And it made her feel sick to her stomach.

Trouble was, how did she change this? She wanted to ask Daryl, but he could barely bring himself to speak to her now. He just avoided all eye contact with her, brought back up all the walls she fought damn hard to knock down. She was confused as to why he let her ride with him on the bike everyday, when there was room in any one of the three cars they travelled in. He never said anything to her about it, but he always waited for her to climb behind and settle herself before he started the engine. He had plenty of opportunities to zoom ahead of her and let her get into a car but he didn't.

Since she met these people, she had never felt so utterly alone.

TWDTWDTWD

After thirteen days of travelling, they ended up just a few miles shy of a place called Newtown. They'd looked at several places, but the main requirement for any new home, however long they stayed there, was a water system. Having easy access to water was an absolute essential, the second requirement was space. Finding somewhere to bed down when there was ten of you was hard enough, but finding space for privacy for all ten was another matter altogether.

The house was something out Little House on the Prarie, Carol thought. It was large, two stories, with a porch that ran right the way round the house, up off the ground and a little attic that used to be study. There was a cellar too, with access both inside and out. There were fireplaces in the dining room, sitting room and the kitchen and even a shed full of chopped wood.

What it was lacking however, was furniture. It seemed that the last owners had taken whatever they could and it took some sleepless nights on the floor, before they managed to raid nearby abandoned properties for things like beds and chairs.

Rick had decreed that providing the Walker population was manageable, that it would be a good place to fortify and to build a home, if only for the winter.

There were four bedrooms on the first floor, Lori, Rick and Carl took the biggest, Maggie and Glenn took another, T-Dog and Daryl agreed to share and originally Beth was to share with Carol, whilst Hershel took the attic for himself. Beth was still deeply upset by the events at the farm and Carol agreed to switch with the young girl's father so he could comfort her.

She didn't mind. It was peaceful up there, with the most fantastic view of the town that dipped into the valleys below them.

Everyday the men were going out and bringing home bits and pieces that was building their home.

It was still a dangerous task, no-one was taking it as lightly as they had back at the Greene farm. Everyday was a waiting game to see it those that went out foraging returned.

She wanted to help them. She had to try.

"Can I help you today?" She asked Daryl as he filled their new van with supplies for that day. Today they were going into the edge of the town. There was a shop that sold weapons. They were hoping it had something of worth. They had taken now to searching every abandoned car and house. Anything that could be useful, from a coat to a bottle of water, to the petrol in the tank. Shops were getting emptier by the day, but survivors were also decreasing and it was easier to pick off what they had left behind.

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her, as if he were assessing her, then he shook his head.

"OK." She replied softly and turned back to the house.

"Rick's coming." He told her retreating back. She stopped and turned around him. "It's the gun shop today. I need someone who knows shit about weapons to get it done fast."

"OK, thank you." She nodded to him that she understood. This was the most he had said to her in days and she was over the moon about it.

"You got a list or somethin'?" He asked her, taking a couple of steps closer towards her. He was surprised she offered. Was this the confirmation he wanted? That she wanted to survive?

"Mmhm. I don't think these things will be found today though..." She fumbled in her cardigan pocket for the scrap of paper with her list. Mostly things for the kitchen, shampoo, feminine hygiene products, first aid kit supplies. "They aren't urgent really...just stuff we should stock up on for winter..." She tailed off as she handed it to him, her fingers brushing his outstretched hand. "Thank you." She told him, stuffing her hands in her cardigan. "Stay safe today." With that, she turned on her heel and made her way back into the house.

Daryl watched her until he could no longer see her before unfolding the scrap of paper. He scanned it quickly, her neat cursive was easy to read. Rubbing alcohol, bandaids, towels were fairly easy ones. She wanted winter boots, he was surprised to see she had small feet, only a size seven. At the bottom of the list, was what surprised him the most. She had written that she wanted a weapon. She didn't specify what, just one that he thought she could handle.

He was right. She did want to survive. And he was surprised by how much that pleased him.

TWDTWDTWD

The gun shop was not as bountiful as they hoped. The Walkers still swarmed the town and there didn't seem to be any living around. Thick dust coated many of the doors and windows. They found some boxes of bullets, a couple of knives and two handguns. Rick raided the office to see if there were anything worth taking whilst Daryl guarded the door from behind the counter, keeping low to avoid any stray Walkers. It was there that he spotted the bow. It was stuffed under counter, a quill filled with arrows along side it. It had a tag on it that said it had been reserved and was awaiting collection. It was made of metal and wood and was sleek and light in his hand. It would be perfect. He threw it over his shoulder, stuffed the quill in the sack with the other things.

Rick came out, two bottles of what looked like paracetemols in his hand, a baggie filled with cigarettes in the other. He held them up to show Daryl. "T-Dog will kiss our feet." He chuckled.

TWDTWDTWD

They arrived back after dark. Although the weapons were somewhat thin on the ground, they'd scored a jackpot with an abandoned car, the boot was piled high with bottles of water and canned goods. Daryl left the bow in the van. Although he couldn't explain why, he didn't want the others to know that he got it for her. Not yet.

He awoke just before dawn and slipped out of the room quietly. Not that it mattered. T-Dog snored like a demon and didn't ever seem to wake himself up. He headed out to the car first, picking up the bow and quill before making his way to the attic to Carol's room and realised he'd never set foot in it before. Glenn had done the sweep of this floor and T-Dog had been the one to help her shift the furniture into the room. He didn't knock, but pushed the door open quietly. She lay curled up in the corner of the bed, that was set in the centre of the room, directly beneath the skylight, where the sun was slowly creeping in, framing her body. It was a sparse room, aside from the bed, she had a small chest of drawers, a chair, on which her clothes lay neatly folded, her shoes underneath and a bedside table, which only had a single dogeared book on it.

He stood in the door way. It was tempting not to disturb the peaceful scene. Still, it had to be done. This was important.

"Hey." He called softly, only one foot in the room. She didn't move from her position. "Carol." Again, she heard nothing.

Slowly, he entered the room. Approaching her bed. It seemed wrong, almost. Invading her privacy. He called out softly again but she only stirred, not waking. He reached out, rested a hand on her quilt covered foot and shook it lightly. "Carol."

She awoke with a start, sitting up sharply. "What's wrong? Are there Walkers?" She pushed the covers back and he looked away, she was only wearing a nightdress. It seemed indecent, even though nothing was on show.

"No. Don't panic. Just get up." He tossed the bow on the bed.

"What's this?" She reached out and picked the bow, running her hand over the smooth curve of the wood, where it melded into the metal.

"It's a bow. It was on your list." He told her, putting the quill down next to her.

"But I...I've never used one before."

"I know. So get up. I'm goin' into town later, so let's start this now." He turned away so she could get up, heading for the door. "Downstairs in five minutes. You wanna learn to survive? Let's start now." He walked down the stairs, missing the look of joy in Carol's face as she put the bow down, rushing to get changed to start target practice.

And so it was decided, she thought. Carol Peletier was going to _live._


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thank you for the amazing reviews. I read every single one.

TWDTWDTWD

Daryl was a hard teacher. She should've guessed it by her pre-dawn wake up call but that was nothing compared to this. First, he showed her how to carry the bow, across her chest, over the strap of the quiver, chastising her for holding it where the string and the wood of the bow met. There was no small talk as he lead her round the back of the house, just taking her off the edge of the property where the trees weren't so close together.

"We'll start with a basic non-moving target, get you used to using it. He had a can of spray paint with him, drawing two circles, one inside the other. She took the bow off and reached over her left shoulder to pull and arrow from the quiver. He slapped her hand away.

"Not yet." He told her. Apparantly there was a lot to learn about using a bow and arrow before you could actually use the bow and arrow. He spent over half an hour explaining to her the ins and outs of the bow, telling her what every part of it was called and what it did. She thought that this was perhaps the most he had ever spoken to her, ever. He spoke with passion and certainty. It made her confident that there was nobody better than him to teach her.

Eventually, he let her position to shoot it, repositioning her like a doll until she was stood how he wanted.

"Stop bein' so stiff. You're gonna hurt yourself after a coupla arrows." Carol took a deep breath and tried to force herself to be calm. It was hard though, when he was breathing down her neck, watching the smallest of moves that she made.

Her first three arrows were a bust. They didn't even hit the tree and she was ashamed to even be standing there. She couldn't do this. He must have known she couldn't do this. Is this what he wanted? To prove to her that she was no good handling a weapon?

Daryl didn't flinch when she missed her target. He wasn't even looking at the target. He was watching her and how she was held the bow, how she held herself when she used it. He wanted to know if his instinct was right and that this would be the perfect weapon for her. Carol was graceful, he knew that. She held herself delicately, like a ballet dancer and moved quietly, the best qualities to have for hunting and tracking. She listened. She heard everything. She wasn't like the other women, gossiping and hollering.

She sighed when her fourth arrow hit the tree, several inches shy of the red target. She moved forward to pull it out and he reached out a hand to stop her.

"Leave it til you run out." He told her, gesturing for her to continue. "Again."

She lost count of the amount of arrows shot that morning. She'd gone back to collect them several times and with every one she shot, her aim was getting better. The last two dozen all shot within the outer circle, creeping closer to the bullseye. Still, Daryl didn't say anything. He stood just an arms length away, his own bow on his back, occassionally nudging her elbow or foot, silently telling her to reposition herself.

Eventually, she heard her name being called from the house, Lori, she thought it was. Without saying anymore, they pulled off the remaining arrows from the tree, loading them back into the quiver, before heading back to the house.

Lori was pacing the porch when they returned, Rick and Glenn loading the van for another run. Without giving her a chance to say thank you for the morning, Daryl stalked off into the house, getting his things together for the run into Newtown. Lori shot her a look as she came up the porch, spotting the bow and arrows over her shoulder.

"Where were you?" She asked. "You've been gone for hours!"

"Sorry, I forgot the time." She walked to the kitchen, suddenly realising how thirsty she was, Daryl walked out as she walked in, his backpack in one hand. He nodded as he brushed past her and she heard the ignition of the van a few moments later. Lori stood and watched her from across the room as she drunk a bottle of water without stopping.

"What were you doing out there? Where did you get that?" She gestured to the bow still on her back.

"Daryl got it. From the weapons place. We were only out on the edge of the trees. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you."

Lori went to say something else, but became distracted when she spotted Carol's arm, her cardigan sleeves rolled up past the elbow. "Shoot Carol, what happened to you? Did you fall?" Lori reached out for her wrist and for the first time Carol noticed that she had skinned her forearm. It was red raw, parts of it oozing blood and the sight of it made her feel queasy. It started to sting and she hissed as Lori ran her fingers over it. She brought her own hand up to touch it and noticed her fingers. The backs of them were also red, blisters were on the verge of forming.

"It's because I'm not used to it." She fumbled under the sink where they kept some of their most basic first aid supplies. She tore open the alcohol wipe with her teeth and wiped the shallow cuts with it, gritting her teeth, feeling the sting that meant that it was working to clean them.

"You're trying to use that thing?" Lori looked incredulous, but she rushed to help Carol apply the bandage.

"Daryl's teaching me. I'm not any good yet, we only started this morning."

"But, why?" Lori, applied a gauze to the worst of her arm, before starting to wrap her arm from wrist to elbow with a crepe bandage.

"Because it's time I learned. I mean, everyone needs to know how to defend themselves right? It comes to something when your boy knows how to defend us better than I do." She flexed her fingers, before she applied padded bandaids to each one that was suffering.

"Why a bow? Why not a gun or a knife? Surely they'd be easier on you?"

"I don't know. Ask Daryl. I didn't ask for one specifically. It makes sense though, can't be wasting bullets on me, not now we're struggling with what we have. Plus, it doesn't make any noise. It'll get better. Look at Daryl, his hands are fine now."

"He was using his bow long before the Walkers came, Carol." Lori threw the empty packets into the trash bag and slid the first aid kit back under the kitchen sink. "You don't have anything to prove here, you know that right? You work just as hard as everyone else."

"It isn't that." Carol said, although she wasn't being entirely honest with her answer. "I want to do this. The world isn't going to change. It's not going to get miraculously better in our lifetime Lori. I know we want it too...but all we can do is change and grow with it. To make our lives better. So this is me, making our lives better. Trying to anyway."

Lori nodded and Carol realised belatedly that this was probably not what the expectant mother wanted to hear.

"I know, when we left the farm...you were angry with Rick. I know you wanted to go. Are you preparing to leave us?" Lori spoke the last sentence hesitantly, as if she didn't want to hear the answer.

"No. I promise. I was angry, that's all. I didn't mean it. He was just dealing with it the only way he could. I'm staying here Lori, honestly." She nodded to her and headed up the stairs to put her bow and arrows away.

As she took the stairs two at a time, she believed those last words. She was going to stay with the group. She _wanted _to stay. If Daryl trusted Rick, so would she.

TWDTWDTWD

Daryl was ready to punch Glenn if he didn't shut up anytime soon. The kid couldn't stop yapping. Silence made him nervous and he was worse than usual. Sure, he was an alright kid, even if Daryl would never admit it. Glenn was hopped up with the anticipation of the scavenge. Having lived on Hershel's farm meant that foraging was not such a necessity and the boy was itching to get back to it.

The rule of the game was to do as much as they could until 4pm or until the van was full. They were edging into the town shop by shop, home by home. Walkers still roamed the place, although they tended to be scattered, rather than the large numbers they were used to.

Daryl felt alot of the crap they were getting was unnecessary. Seriously, when every day it was a mission to feed the group, was a kitchen table really the answer? Lori's list consisted of baby crap and clothes for her growing stomach but Daryl would be damned before he helped that bitch with her spawn. He was leaving that to Rick and Glenn.

"So, like, maybe we should go further into town today, if there's time. There might be another gun shop." He bobbed up and down in his seat in the middle and Daryl took his hand off his gun to elbow him in the chest.

"Cool it, man. We stick to the plan." He told him, firmly. Rick's head was in the clouds today and he wasn't about to let this scavenge run astray.

Carol's list was burning a hole in his pocket. He didn't even need to take it out, he had memorised the it the day before. Shampoo and girl's crap, boots, a hat and other clothes were the only things on her list that could be classed as personal items. Everything else were general items, things they all needed. Medical supplies, cleaning items, blankets and towels. He was glad she was practical, unlike Maggie and Beth who had put fucking face cream and chocolate on their lists, like they were going to fucking Walmart with a shopping cart.

But Rick on insisted in taking it if they could find it. Keeping everyone's spirits up was important apparantly. Daryl didn't give a shit about anyone's spirits. He just cared that there was enough food on the table that they didn't have yet and that Walkers didn't come rip them to shreds in their sleep.

The first store was a clothing boutique. It was the small designer kind, women's mannequins still stood dusty in the window, wearing last Spring's fashions. Daryl took out two Walkers that approached them as Glenn busted the door's lock. He knew straight away that the things he and Carol would want would not be in this store. He stood outside the door, letting Rick take the lead in, whilst Glenn got the bags out to fill. They continued in this fashion for another clothing store, this one for children, Rick picked out things for Carl, who even Daryl had noticed had grown substantially in the last few weeks. They found plenty in a small pharmacy. Daryl took the lead in this one, knowing more about prescription medication than the rest of them. Rick watched the door whilst Glenn scoured the aisles, first for the women's personal things, then Daryl suspected, for the fucking face cream Maggie wanted. Boy was going soft, he noted.

They were about to head back for the day, when he spotted the window of a camping store. After taking some tables from a cafe, as well as raiding the kitchen for the industrial sized tins and jars, he asked the men to hold up for this shop and they agreed, despite the clock rapidly approaching 4 pm.

Rick used his knife on a Walker before they crossed the street, it used to be an old lady, some of the setting rollers still in her matted hair. As soon as they got in, he headed straight for the women's section, finding the boots. He eventually found a size 7, a black lace up pair that looked like army surplus, and stuffed them in the backpack. Amongst the army surplus clothing, he spotted a warmer jacket for himself and picked up a few more for whoever wanted them. He found one for Carol too, a dark brown leather coat, covered in pockets and zips. It would do. He was pleased to have got the most important stuff so fast. The rest would have to wait for another day.

He chose to drive back to the house, speeding to make up the time they lost. No-one liked being out of the house after dark. They didn't set up a guard. There wasn't a good watch point anyway. Most of the windows on the lower floor had been boarded up, every door locked and barricaded at night.

As if they had been watching it from the door, most of the group came tumbling out as the van pulled up the porch.

"You're late!" Maggie gave Glenn a hug, before pulling away to help unload the van. There were three tables to carry in, that when pushed together, would give them enough room to all sit down to eat.

Carol was one of the last to come out and straight away Daryl noticed the bandaged arm and fingers. He'd expected this to happen, it did when you first started using a bow and soft skin had yet to harden, like his. He handed her one of the chairs from the cafe.

"You got it?" She nodded her response. "I think Glenn picked up Neosporin. Should help with that." He nodded towards her arm, he noticed her moving it stiffly, the aching had already kicked in. He wondered if she would be prepared for round two in the morning.

TWDTWDTWD

He woke up as the sun rose, a lie in for him because he knew it wouldn't be his turn to head into town that day. He was going to use the time wisely, after more practise with Carol, he was going to go hunting, something he hadn't done much of in this forest and see what game was available for the taking.

He picked up the coat and boots for her and crept up to her room again but was surprised to find it empty, the bed neatly made, her nightdress folded on her pillow. Going back down the stairs to the kitchen he found her drinking a cup of coffee at the table, flicking through an old magazine. She looked up when he came into the room and he spotted her bow resting against the table leg.

"Morning." She greeted before draining the last of her coffee.

He nodded and wordlessly handed over the coat and boots. "This is great. Thank you Daryl." She toed off her sneakers quickly and slid the boots on, lacing them up deftly. She slid the jacket on, after pulling the tags off, zipping and belting it to try it for size. It fell at mid-thigh, roomy enough to put on a thick sweater underneath if she had to. "It's a perfect fit. I'm grateful."

"S'alright. You ready?" He didn't wait for an answer before making for the door, heading into the chilly sun.

She pulled the zip up a little higher before slinging on her quiver and bow. She was ready.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: You rock. Thanks for the reads/reviews. I gots me a Tumblr. Its under SepticLovebite. It probably won't just be Walking Dead related though.

TWDTWDTWD

The second day of using the bow was harder than the first. Sure, Carol's aim was better, she was getting close to the target straight of the bat, but the her arms pulled with every arrow shot and her fingers burned even though she had changed the bandaids that morning. She was grateful for the coat today though. Although the mornings were cooler, it wasn't really necessary to wear the leather jacket, but it protected her still tender forearm and that was reason enough to keep it on.

They worked later this time and Daryl was surprised at Carol's steely determination. He could see the pain her fingers were giving her, gritting her teeth with the release of every arrow, but she remained silent throughout, until she hit her first bullseye. She gasped and turned to him, letting out a small whoop of joy. He let himself give her a small smile. He remembered when he hit his first target. She hit three more in succession and he decided to change the height of the target.

"Come on, let's go further in." He waited for her to pull the last of the arrows from the tree before leading them into the forest, where the trees were far closer together, making it feel so much darker. "There." He pointed upwards, to a tree with plenty of branches, but he gestured to one fifteen or so feet upwards, the only one with leaves still on it.

She looked at him questioningly. "If you're hunting food, you're more likely to find squirrel or birds. And they ain't gonna be in your eyeline." He told her, pointing upwards and stepping back to let her aim. She heard him take his crossbow from his back, scanning the area for Walkers. She turned back and aimed. The arrow hit the branch, but she hadn't used enough force for it and when it hit the bark, it dropped to the floor. "Pull back further on the string." He told her, hardly looking at her, focusing instead on the ground around him, spotting tracks that she couldn't see.

Her next arrow soared over the branch, she'd aimed too high. She didn't even look to him, just loaded up the next one and went at it again. Eventually she hit the branch and the last half a dozen followed in succession. When she turned to look at him, having used all the the arrows in her quiver, he wasn't where she thought. She spun around again, her heart racing until she spotted him twenty feet away, stringing a squirrel onto his belt.

"You need t'listen to what's goin' on around you, as well as focusin' on the target. You go get those arrows." He waved up to the trees, whilst he walked over to collect the ones that hadn't it hit the target. She looked at him incredulously. She hadn't thought about how she was going to get the arrows down whilst she was shooting them.

When he realised she hadn't moved from her position, he looked her over, recognising the hesitancy on her face. "Don't tell me Carol Peletier ain't never climbed a tree?" She shook her head and went to set her bow down against the base of the tree. "Take it with you. What if whilst you're up there you get trapped by a Walker, your only defence layin' at it's feet?"

Carol huffed and took a deep breath, throwing the bow over her back and attempted to get her footing on the first branch.

"Don't look down." He told her as he walked away.

"Yes, that's real helpful Daryl, thanks." She muttered under her breath as she got a few foot off the ground. She heard him snigger up ahead and knew that he had heard her.

Getting to the branch she wanted wasn't as tricky as she thought. There was an awkward moment when two branches were further apart than she thought she could reach, but she managed it, using all the strength she had in her upper arms. When she got to the arrow-riddled branch, she shimmied across it, legs either side of it, her chest low to the branch. She had to look down to reach the arrows and silently prayed that she wouldn't fall simply at the sight of the far below ground. As she stuffed the arrows back in her quiver, back up the branch to make her way back down, she heard a rustling to her left.

It was a squirrel, grey and fat, scratching at something she couldn't see on branch just above her left side. She looked down to see if she could spot Daryl, but the branches on the next tree were too thick and she didn't want to risk frightening it off by calling out. She reached back for her bow and an arrow. Eye on the prize. If she couldn't see Daryl, she figured he couldn't see her and if she missed and he caught her picking up the arrow from the forest floor, she'd just claim she dropped it.

It was unnerving to load the bow, using only her legs to grip her to the branch. The squirrel moved suddenly, just a foot higher, even though it hadn't spotted her and she re-arranged herself. As she shot the arrow, it moved again and it landed straight through the creatures tail, pinning it to the branch. It let out a squeak and she reloaded her bow quickly, it landed straight through it's head the second time, putting the creature out of it's misery.

She resisted squealing with joy as she climbed higher to retrieve her kill, her fear of falling forgotten in the midst of her excitement. Once she retrieved her arrows, she realised she had nothing to string the squirrel on to and slowly began her descent with one hand.

"You gone and built yourself a nest up there or somethin'?" She heard him call from below her and as she clambered down and he came into view she could see he'd got half a dozen squirrels in the time she had been up the tree.

She snorted at his sarcasm and skipped the last branch down, jumping with enthusiasm. She held out the carcass proudly, looking for an acknowledgement. He just jutted his chin out her, handing her the arrows he'd retrieved.

Daryl fished in his pocket and pulled out a length of string, taking the squirrel from her, he strung it up.

"Don't aim the arrow where the target it is, aim it where the target will be. Then you won't waste two arrows on one small kill." He approached her, grasping her by the buckle of her coat belt and she gasped softly at the sudden intrusion of her personal space, but he didn't acknowledge it, simply threading the string behind the belt and tieing it into a knot. The squirrel bounced against her thigh and she found the motion strangely satisifying. She _killed _this. She _provided_.

"You saw?" She asked, backing away to get some breathing space.

"I told you, you have to see everythin'." He turned away, loading up his own bow. "Well done. Come on, let's find a couple more before lunch."

TWDTWDTWD

She guessed they'd arrived back at the house just after lunch, judging what she could from the sun. She was ravenously hungry, although it was worth it for the three squirrels that now hung from her belt. The last two she had got with one arrow each and she couldn't keep the grin off her face.

Their wandering had led them to a river and Daryl had commented that it was a good sign, meaning there would be more wildlife to be found near the river's edge.

Some of the group were on the porch, various chores in hand. Hershel was helping Lori contruct a makeshift clothes line and Carol felt guilt flood her that she wasn't there to help.

"After lunch, I'm goin' back out there to scan the area, see how far it's worth goin' out to. Stay here." He told her, as they came up through the dying orchard. She made to voice her protest but he shot her down with a look. "I can't go out that deep without knowin' where I am. You ain't no expert yet, despite the kills. I can't watch both our backs."

"Okay. I'll just get back in the kitchen." She replied, grin still on her face.

"Damn straight. Anyway, you got squirrels to clean." He smirked, nodding at the old man as they passed them on the way in.

Carl raced up to them as they entered the house, abandoning his mother and Hershel.

"Hey, did you kill those Carol?" He asked, pointing at her waist. Neither of them stopped their steady pace to the kitchen and Daryl handed her a bottle of water wordlessly.

"Sure did." She replied, twisting off the cap and sinking it in one go, before she even took the bow from her back.

"That's awesome. Hey Daryl, would you teach me how to hunt?" Carol turned to look at Daryl, who was tearing into the sandwiches that had been left on the counter for them.

He swallowed the mouthful and sized the kid up. "Yeah, when you're taller than the frickin' bow."

Carol unbuckled her coat and handed the young boy and handed him the string of squirrels. "Will you take them outside for me please Carl, I'll clean them after lunch." She gestured for Daryl to give him his own string and the Carl bounded from the room, hollering out to his mother about squirrel for dinner.

"Put something on those fingers." He told her as he finished the last of his sandwich. "I'll show you how to clean the bow later."

With that he was gone, leaving Carol with sore arms, blistered fingers but a huge sense of pride.

She washed up first, the water loosening the sticky of the bandaids on her fingers. She hissed as she peeled them off, two of the blisters had burst, blood seeping into the water. It was odd, she noticed, that she only ever really acknowledged the pain once she got back into the house. It wasn't like she didn't feel it, she felt the dull sting every time she drew an arrow, but it was at the back of her mind, waiting until she was free to deal with it.

Maggie came in as she put the fresh dressings on, a tray of empty glasses in her hand.

"You ok?" She asked, setting them on the worktop.

"I'm fine. Better now I cleaned up." Carol sat at the kitchen table and bit into her sandwich eagerly.

"Lori says Daryl's teaching you how to hunt." She said conversationally, leaning against the counter.

"Well, trying to." She chuckled. "He probably wants to chuck the thing at my head."

"Looks painful." She nodded at her bandaged arm and fingers.

"It'll get better. It was worth it. Got three squirrels." She took another mouthful. Simple food had never tasted so good. She figured they'd been out for at least seven hours.

"You did?" Maggie tried to hide her surprise. "Well done, that's great." She sounded genuinely pleased.

"I was happy. Wasn't expecting anything today. Glenn gone out to town?"

"Yeah. T-Dog too. Going to a garden centre they think. Get some seeds and stuff. Me and Beth thought we could plant things in time for spring. I never thought I would say it, but I would kill for somethin' healthy instead of outta a can."

"Well, your farm spoiled us. We got too happy with the chickens and the greens." She swallowed her last bite, bringing the plate to the sink. "I think replanting is a great idea. I'd be happy to help, if you'd like."

"Sure, if you're not too busy getting us the rest of our dinner." Maggie winked as they left the kitchen, back out to the porch, where Carl had lay out the squirrels.

Carol let out a laugh. She half hoped the younger girl's statement was true.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: I love you guys. Marry me?

Question: Is it ever said what T-Dog did for a living before? For the purposes of this he is a Brickie, but yanno, correct me or whatever.

TWDTWDTWD

She spent the afternoon on the porch of the house, preparing the squirrels for dinner. Rick and Hershel set to work ripping up the allotment. A lot of the vegetables had been left in the ground and had rotted away, so the men were at work to remove it all and prepare the ground for new seeds.

Some of the trees however, still bore some fruit and the rest of the women were working to remove what needed taking before it went bad or got eaten by birds. Carol had spotted persimmon, apples and pears, even a few lemons too. After she had finished with the squirrels, she worked with Lori and Carl on the ground to pick some blackcurrants and blackberries from the bushes. She hoped that if she wrote a list, whoever went out the next day would get her some ingredients to make pies. There would be enough fruit for several. She could even use the rest to make chutneys and jams, save it going to waste.

T-Dog and Glenn returned close to 5pm, the van contained the boxes of seeds, sorting through them she spotted plenty that they could make use of through the winter, carrots, brussel sprouts and sweet potatoes, if they planted them in the next few days. They'd even brought bags of soil, some tools and a pop up greenhouse. It was better than they could have hoped for.

But the bulk of the van was filled with bricks, mountains of them, bags of cement mix and of all things, a cement mixer. T-Dog explained with much excitement that he could build them a fort, block them in and protect them from outsiders; living or undead. Rick nodded in agreement, questioning the man on how he thought it should be done, Carol learnt that before the dead started walking, T-Dog worked on a builder's yard and making a wall like this would be a piece of cake. It was just a case of having the time to do it - it was a large perimeter, if they wanted to include the plots and the orchard.

"There's more materials, in the yard, just couldn't fit them in the van. I figure if we can go and get three loads tomorrow, I could get a 6 foot wall going. It'd take me awhile, but I could get started on it tomorrow?" T-Dog looked more animated than she had ever seen him, Carol stopped to listen to him, box of seeds in hand.

"Well, I've never built a wall before, but do you think you could show us? If you had three or four more then that would save time." She offered. "I know we need to get these seeds in the ground now, before it gets too cold but if we split up and focus on just these tasks, we could get this done a hell of a lot faster, I think."

Rick nodded in agreement. "That's a good idea. You think you can show us T-Dog?"

T-Dog nodded his head. "Sure, if I can lay the foundation line first, I don't see why not, man. If I could get you, Glenn, Hershel and Daryl on it, we could be done in a couple of weeks."

"Someone singin' for me?" Daryl drawled from behind them, coming up through the orchard, Carol was surprised to see that he didn't have any kills strapped to him., just leaves bundled in string dangling from his belt. "What's all this shit?" He gestured to the mound of bricks that had been stacked up against the wood shed.

"We're building a wall. You up for mixing up some cement tomorrow?"

He stopped for a moment, head cocked to one side, considering the propostion. "You're gonna need more bricks than that to build a fort." He told them, pulling off his crossbow from his back. "But, sure why not?"

"I can go back there tomorrow." Glenn piped up. "If you write me a list, T-Dog, a couple of others could come with me, we can do it in three trips. You can get started that way."

"I'll go." Carol offered. "I don't mind."

Daryl shot her a look. "No, you ain't. Me and Glenn will go. Rest of you can make a start. Weather's turning, we're getting less daylight. We need to get this show on the road. Next time we make 'nother trip into town, we get some fishin' lines. There's a river not more than half a mile over, plenty to catch. But there are Walkers, think there might have be somethin' on the other side of the river and they strayed over. I took out four. They were alone and it was 'bout a mile and a half up the river."

"Then we take extra care outside." Hershel told them, hand resting on his belt, a knife hanging from it. "No-one steps a foot outside unarmed and no-one loses sight of the house unless they're with someone else."

"T-Dog." Rick clapped the man on the shoulder. "Let's go draw up some plans for this great wall."

Carol tucked the last box of seeds in the wood shed before following the others into the house. Lori was already preparing dinner and she intended to help, after she spoke to _him_.

She saw his feet at the top of the stairs and she started after him. Without knocking, she walked into his room, where he was rooting in drawers, for what she couldn't tell. He looked at her briefly as she entered, before going back to his search. She stared at him from the door way, arms folded. "What?" He asked her, finally.

"Why won't you let me go?" She asked.

"Just 'cause you killed a coupla squirrels, don't mean you're ready for goin' to town. You ain't ready." He didn't pause his rifling through the drawers as he spoke.

"I gotta have a chance, Daryl." she dropped her defensive stance and stepped fully into the room.

"You'll get one. When you're ready. There ain't no rush anyhow." He finally found what he was looking for, a leather glove and slammed the drawer he took it from shut. "You got needle and thread?"

She was taken aback at the change in discussion. "Yes. But I'm not good for sewing at the moment." She waggled her bandaged hand. "Why?"

He shook his head. "Go get your weapon. I'll show you how to clean the arrows before it gets dark."

With that, he left her standing in his room alone, carrying the single leather glove.

TWDTWDTWD

That night's squirrel was the best she'd ever tasted. She hadn't even ended up cooking it, instead of helping the other women in the kitchen, she sat at a picnic table on the porch, learning how to maintain the bow and arrows in the fading sunlight. She didn't know which squirrels were hers after they'd been cooked, but knowing that she'd put food on her own plate, on other people's plates, was a feeling unlike any other.

Guilt plagued her when she saw Lori's nauseous face as she cleared the plates and she rushed to take over, taking charge of the washing up with Carl. When she finished, she heard Rick slam the front door shut, sliding the makeshift barricade over it. They were in for the night.

She said her goodnights to the Grimes family, who were huddled up on the couch in the sitting room, as she wearily trudged the stairs she realised how exhausted she was. She wondered if Daryl would wake her in the morning or if he was making an early start on the runs into town.

Stopping in the bathroom, she looked in the mirror and was surprised with how grubby her face looked. She never got this bad and she often wondered how Daryl got so grimy. There was her answer. Hunting was a dirty job, quite literally. She scrubbed her face with a soapy flannel and cold water before heading up to her little attic room.

She hadn't even opened the door to the room before she heard footsteps creeping behind her, making her jump.

"What you creeping around for?" She asked, hand placed against her heart.

"Need that needle and thread." Daryl answered, following her into the room. He had two bowls in his hand, one filled with water, a cloth floating in it, the other was smaller, filled with something goopy she couldn't name, although it smelled familiar.

She hunted around the bedside cabinet and drew out the little sewing kit, sitting on the bed to pull out a reel of thread. "Is it urgent? I can ask Lori to do it if it is."

"Hell woman, I managed to live without you lot cluckin' round me all the damn time, you know." He put the bowls down on the cabinet, and drew a couple of bandages and a pair of scissors from his pocket and then took the thread from her and unravelled it, snapping it with his teeth, before deftly threading a needle. He pulled a scrap of leather from his other pocket and she recognised it as a piece of the glove he was hunting for earlier, cut into an odd shape.

She laughed gently as he sat himself on the bed. "Is that right? You lived on your own, before?" She asked, watching him with interest as he started stitching the edge of the leather.

"Yeah. Merle was about sometime, in between rounds in the pen."

"Patched up your own shirts then?" He sensed the teasing in her voice and looked up from his work.

"Yeah, I patched up my own damn shirts." He told her, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Wash your arm." He nodded to the bowls sitting on the dresser.

She looked at him questioningly but began to unravel the bandage covering her from elbow to wrist anyway.

"You need to apply the aloe over it, then wrap it back up." He didn't break his concentration from creating tiny stitches around the edge of the leather.

They each worked silently for ten minutes, concentrating on their individual tasks. As soon as the aloe hit her skin, Carol felt relief from the sting, it was heavenly.

As she pulled the grubby bandaids from her fingers to give them the same treatment, she heard him snap the thread again and he stood up to show her the finished piece.

"What is it?"

"It's a finger tab." He grasped her by the wrist and slid it carefully over her swollen fingers, it fitted perfectly, cover all the blisters like a glove. "Won't bother you as much anymore."

She looked up at him in a way he could only describe as adoring. As if she could read his mind, she rearranged her features into something a little less frightening for him and smiled. "Thank you. This'll help." She slid the tab off and set it on her bedside cabinet before moving back to the aloe.

It was awkward using her left hand, something she wasn't used to and she looked at him hesitantly, silently asking for help.

He stepped over, turning her hand to wash at the cuts as gently as he could. She turned her head away to grit her teeth at the contact.

"Sorry." He muttered gruffly.

"S'ok" She grimaced, turning back to watch him cut some of the remaining bandage in half, soaking it in the aloe pulp, before weaving it around her fingers.

"Just wear it for tonight, give it some air tomorrow, now you got the tab." He told her.

She nodded and let him finish off by wrapping dry bandage over the top, binding her four fingers together. He pinned it closed and wiped his hands off on his trouser legs.

"I guess I'll see you in the mornin'."

"You got time tomorrow, if you're doing all those trips to town?" She asked, following him to the door.

He nodded and left as silently as he arrived.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Thank you for your reads and reviews. I am amazed that anyone bothers.

I've started mapping out where I am going with this thing and I've got the next 5 chapters in mind. If I stop where I think I'll be ready to stop, it should be about 10 chapters long in total. But then I got this badass idea and I'm not sure if I will continue on with the plot to put it in or make it a one shot. I'll figure it out by chapter 8 I guess. I've been pretty awesome about updating every day, but I won't be tomorrow. I'll be somewhere without an internet connection, but I should have my laptop to write, so all going well, it'll be up Friday. /end ramble

TWDTWDTWD

Carol was surprised by how quickly hunting became a part of her daily routine. Every morning, she'd be up before the sun came up. Usually Daryl would wake first and creep up to her attic to check she was up, but sometimes she'd surprise him by being downstairs already, a pot of coffee on the go. It would only be a couple of hours of hunting, just until the first of the others woke up, around seven. She was getting better with her aim, missing moving targets less often now, although never surpassing his kills. Daryl would usually came back with half a dozen or so rabbits and squirrels, whilst she'd consider it a good haul if she got three. But she always came back with something and between them, it was always a good meal on the table.

After getting back to the house, he would get straight to work helping the men on the wall. After a week, T-Dog had laid the foundation and it was already two foot high all the way around. With every day, each man was getting better at laying the bricks and more and more was achieved.

Carol would usually clean that evenings meal first before helping Lori, Beth, Maggie and Carl with the task of planting the seeds and it was just as gruelling as laying bricks. The weather had cooled over the previous weeks, but at the height of day, the sun was still strong on their back as they worked hands and knees on the hard earth, turning it to plant their fruit and vegetables.

Lori was finding it particularly hard, her bump seemed to have popped up overnight and she frequently looked gaunt and frail. Carol had to call Rick on more than one on occasion to take her inside to rest because the woman would not heed Carol's advice. But she knew, that as soon as Lori would be cleaning in the house, hating the feeling of uselessness. Carol knew how that felt.

The only rested for lunch, although no-one wasted time by cooking up anything particularly time-consuming and ploughed straight on with work until the sun began to fade. It was then Lori usually began to surface, doing her best to stomach the smells that plagued her so that she could have dinner on the table for them when they walked in the door.

They rotated the washing up, everyone taking their turns without complaint. Even Daryl, who usually made references to "women's work" on a daily basis. Afterwards, she and Daryl would sit on the porch by candlelight, cleaning their weapons in darkness before she headed to bed, absolutely exhausted, to do it all again the next day. And she loved it.

Once the seeds were all planted, she and Maggie began to help the men with the wall. Daily applications of aloe meant her fingers and forearm were almost completely healed, thanks to Daryl. The bricks were heavy and she was slow, but every little helped.

TWDTWDTWD

Daryl found himself hating the monotony of the wall. Slowly working up and down the same strip of earth, layering on wet cement and pressing it onto the bricks below was mindnumbingly boring.

He wanted to be out in the forest, tracking and hunting. Exploring what beyond the river. He knew that hunting wasn't urgent. There was less mouths to feed these days, plenty of food in the stores and he had Carol taking some of the work from him.

She surprised him. He truly thought that after the first day, her hand covered with blisters, she'd jack it in and step back into the kitchen. He never thought she'd actually be that good. Not many people could do what he did, not even Merle was, despite being the one to teach him, on account of his yappy mouth and tendency to be high as a kite most of the time. But she kept getting better. She was starting to recognise tracks in the ground, spotting the occasional kill before he did.

He wondered though, what brought about this change. He knew the change of heart happened somewhere between the conversation they had beside the dying fire, the first terrible night out of the Greene farm and the day she approached him with her scrap of paper, asking for a weapon, but he couldn't decide why.

He always found Carol interesting. Right from the beginning, when they first met at the camp outside Atlanta. He never spoke to her, she never spoke to anyone apart from the women, her douchebag husband made sure of that. He knew from the first day how that relationship went down. He had his own experiences with shitty family. But that day, when she took the axe from him to batter her husband's skull beyond all recognition, that's when he noticed her. He knew her to be stronger than everyone thought, had to be to put with that piece of shit on her shoulder her whole damn life.

She pissed him off plenty. She knew exactly how to wind him up, creep right under his skin til he wanted to throw punches at the wall. She knew him. Knew how he thought, how he behaved and it made him so mad. He couldn't hide anything from her. Yet, all that time, he kept coming back for more. He didn't want to hide from her. Not anymore. Not this Carol. This Carol, who wanted life. Who wanted more than she'd been given.

He wanted to be with her now, outside the growing wall, teaching her all he knew. Instead he was building a wall alongside Rick, who couldn't seem to stop jabbering on about plans after the wall. At this rate, it felt like all that lay ahead of them was the neverending fucking wall.

"Hey, Daryl, can I ask you something?" The sheriff asked him, not stopping his work.

Daryl looked at him, squinting in the sunlight. If somebody asked you if they could ask you something, it never turned out to be anything good, in his experience. Still, he nodded anyway.

"You planning on sticking around?" His voice was low, avoiding the ears of Carol and Hershel, who were across the way from them.

"I ever said I'm goin' anywhere? 'Sides, what kinda idiot do you think I am, workin' my ass off building a wall I don't intend on livin' behind?" Daryl was surprised. He liked Rick well enough, for a cop. Man did what was in everyone's best interests. They usually worked from the same page on most things.

"I thought...Carol's gettin' awful good on that bow..." Rick trailed off, hoping the other man got the hint.

"S'bout time. She and Beth 'bout the only ones who didn't know shit about defendin' themselves." Daryl reached over to take a pull out of his water canteen.

"I know she wanted to go. She was all kinds of mad at me that night." Daryl knew instantly which night Rick referred to.

"Bein' honest with ya Rick, I wanted to kick the shit outta you myself." He looked up at him, a smirk on his face. Rick looked mildly alarmed.

"I'da done it already if I still did. But she ain't goin' nowhere. Neither am I."

"She tell you that?" Rick pressed on, stopping to watch Daryl respond.

"She don't gotta. She ain't goin'." Daryl repeated, slapping another brick with cement, he turned to watch Carol, who had paused to crick her back. "She's...she's better'n ever." He turned away as she caught his gaze.

Rick seemed happy enough with this answer. "She any good with that thing anyway?" He asked, laughter in his voice.

"I'd watch your ass if you piss her off anymore." Daryl chuckled back. "She got me for a teacher, ain't she?"

"That's true, man." Rick kept his mouth shut after that, for which Daryl was grateful. All that talking did no-one any good. He did not want to talk to anyone about Carol. He knew that they all assumed too much and he wasn't about to tell them anything.

TWDTWDTWD

Several mornings later, it rained. It was the soft drizzly kind, the kind that looked harmless but soaked you to the skin, chilling you to the bones. But Carol knew that a little rain wouldn't stop Daryl Dixon and his crossbow. And that meant it wouldn't stop her. Still, she waited until he came up to her room to wake her, savouring the extra few minutes in bed.

As they prepared to leave, he handed her a buck knife, sheathed, for her to slip through her jeans belt.

She looked at him questioningly. "There's Walkers out there, you never know, bow ain't always enough." He told her. He didn't know why today of all days he handed her that knife. Couldn't explain it and was pretty sure she would laugh at him if he tried. There was just a feeling, something telling him that she should have it. Truth was though, he couldn't teach her shit about using that knife, because there would be no time for practice if she ever needed it.

She accepted his answer and undid her leather jacket so she could thread it onto her belt.

"Can they even work on the wall in this weather?" She asked, as they stepped out onto the porch. It was nearly complete now, just a couple more rows of bricks and it would be taller than all of them. There was plans for a door, Rick reckoned he'd seen something they could tear down and bring back from a property a few miles down the road, one they'd plundered for furniture in the early days of their. It had to be wide enough to fit the vehicles in the makeshift driveway.

"Doubt it. They'll be glad for a break anyways." He told her, as they made their way through the wall and towards the forest.

The rain seemed to drive all the creatures into hiding. She could hear rustling higher up in the trees but she couldn't be sure if it was a meal or just the rain pattering on the leaves. Daryl spotted his first kill quickly, a hare and took it out. As he went to retrieve it, she heard a definite animal noise above her and with no hesitation she drew her bow and released, killing the squirrel instantly, pinning it's carcass to the trunk. She flung her bow on her back and made her way up the tree to retrieve her prize. She was in no mood to hang around today, if they were having a day off, she wanted to spend at least some of it in the living room, by the fire with a cup of sweet tea and a book.

As she began to climb back down the ten feet or so, she heard his crossbow again and she was glad he caught something again.

"Stay up there, Carol." He growled up towards the tree and she heard the bow go off again. "We got a couple of Walkers."

Her heart leapt to her throat when she heard the last word, but she climbed further down the tree anyway, feet stumbling to get to the branches. She stopped a few feet from the bottom when she pulled her bow off, loading it in and releasing it into the head of a Walker across the ways, a few feet from where Daryl stood, retrieving his arrows from the fallen undead. It crumbled to the ground instantly and she felt bile rise into her throat. She killed her second Walker.

She jumped from the tree and landed in a crouch, straightening up to scan the clearing where they stood. "You alright?" She asked.

He nodded and turned suddenly, hearing the noise of something else. Another Walker came lurching towards him, a small one, a young boy, maybe fifteen or so, shredded clothes hanging from his body, exposing his open wound, ribs on show and it was missing an arm. Daryl aimed his crossbow and the arrow hit the Walker in the chest, the force sending its small frame to the ground. Before it could get up, Daryl jumped it, one foot on its chest, the other on its remaining arm. It snarled and moaned at him, jaw mashing to get a bite of him.

"Get over here and take it out." He told her, voice eerily calm.

She stepped over slowly. "Why did you aim at its chest?" She asked, pulling the knife from the sheath.

"You gotta do it." He pushed harder on the Walker's chest, forcing it down, it kicked furiously to release itself.

She reached them, every footstep hesitant.

"You gotta do it Carol, you gotta know what it feels like." He urged her on. "This is what it takes, to live."

"I...I..."

"Do it!" He didn't meant to snarl at her, but it ripped from his throat before he could stop it. She glanced at his face, looking straight at him, before she plunged the buck knife into the Walker's head, blood splattering the ground, it stilled on the first penetration, but she stabbed again, to be sure.

She sank to her knees to pull the knife out and he stepped back to retrieve her arrow from the other Walker.

"Come on, let's go back." He was gentle now, she noticed, grasping her by the arm to help her up.

"No." Carol finally pulled her gaze away from the young Walker. "We still got food to find."

"It don't matter. This'll do." He told her, moving her along with a hand at the small of her back. "You need to go back." He thought he had pushed her too far. She wasn't ready for this. She was too delicate for this.

"No, I'm fine Daryl. Let's keep going." She pulled herself away from him and took the arrow out of his hand, putting it back in the quiver and exchanging it for another to load her bow, she turned away and walked further into the forest. He followed her. He'd always follow her.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Thank you for every moment spent on one of my stories.

TWDTWDTWD

She didn't say another word that morning. Daryl felt like he'd made a mistake, commanding her to do what she did. They hardly spoke anyway, for two people who spent so much time together, but now the silence was unnerving. She hunted with purpose, a single minded determination that would frighten a lesser man.

For the first time, she took home more kills than he. She didn't waste a single arrow, hitting every creature in the centre of it's head. He, for the first time on a hunt, became distracted. He was torn between scouring the forest for more Walkers and watching her, following her every move. He watched her because he was not convinced that she wouldn't go into shock and burst into hysterics at any moment. He watched her because she was so focused on the task at hand that he wasn't convinced she'd notice another Walker creeping up on her.

The string of animals on her belt began weighing her down and he knew she would carry on until she could carry no more if he didn't stop her. She was coming down from another tree when he reached out and placed his hand on the back of her neck. "Come on. It's time to go." She flinched at the contact, as if noticing he was there for the first time, but she strung the last squirrel to her belt and nodded, shouldering her bow.

The rain finally got to her, she felt every layer of clothing sticking to her skin. She wanted a hot bath, a cup of tea and sleep. Lots of sleep. She knew the hot bath was out, but the last two she could manage. Hunting had forced her to remain calm. When she pulled the knife from the skull of young Walker, she wanted to cry. That was somebody's boy. Somebody's baby. She swallowed the emotion like a pill, forcing it deep down. She asked for this. She asked to protect herself. She did it. She could do it. But she wouldn't act as if every Walker that met their end wasn't a loss. Somebody, somewhere, loved that Walker. Or had loved. They were important to somebody, at some time. She knew that she would take the second lives of many more Walkers, every one that crossed her path. But she would never treat them like they meant nothing.

As they walked through the clearing, following the property wall to the entrance, she stole a glance at Daryl, striding alongside her, frown lines etched into his forehead.

"I'm alright." She told him, slowing her pace.

"You ain't actin' like it." He slowed with her, almost at a standstill.

"Sorry. I just..." She trailed off, not sure how to articulate what she wanted to say. "I don't know what I expected...just not that."

"Not what?" He asked.

She knew he'd think she was crazy if she said what she really meant. She mourned the loss of the lives she had taken. "I only ever took out one Walker before today." She deflected.

He raised his eyebrow at the this. "One?" He repeated with disbelief.

She nodded. "I know, it sounds stupid, right?"

"Can't say I'm not shocked. How the fuck did you make it this far?"

"Other people. Ed. Rick. You." She shrugged. "Never done anything for myself. Wasn't allowed to and then...I just didn't know how."

"Until now." Daryl gave her a nudge on the arm before resuming their pace back to the house.

"Until now." She repeated with a small smile.

TWDTWDTWD

She insisted on cleaning the kills as usual before going into the house, the porch roof protecting her from the rain. Daryl offered to do it all, but she refused to be swayed, taking the time to clean the blood from her weapons whilst Daryl reported back to Rick on the Walker sightings. It was agreed that the door would be retrieved tomorrow, rain or no rain.

Finally finished with her chores, she peeked her head into the living room, where most of the group were resting, lounging over the chairs, soaking up the warmth of the fire. She said her hellos to them, before telling them she was going for a nap.

Peeling off her sodden coat as she made her way up the stairs, she spotted the wash basket of clothes standing in the corner and groaned when she realised everything she owned would be wet. She was down to three shirts, a pair of cargo pants and a pair of jeans. She'd written a list of things she needed, but since the idea of the wall, everything else had been left by the wayside. Clothes had been washed the day before, with the intention of hanging them out to dry this morning. A plan that went awry.

Daryl was in his room when he heard her groan, changing his own sodden gear. He opened the door, spotting her pulling the wet clothes from the basket.

"Wha's wrong?" He asked as he buttoned up the shirt he'd slid on.

"I'm out of dry clothes." She moaned, pulling her boots from her feet, one at a time.

"Hang on." He stepped back into his room for a moment, returning with a shirt and pants in his hand. "Here."

She stepped forward to take the bundle. "You sure?"

"Of course I'm fuckin' sure, geez." He rolled his eyes. "We'll go to town to get you clothes when the wall's done."

"We?" She asked, not believing what she was hearing.

He let of a puff of air and looked at her pointedly. "Yeah, you and me. You can come to town."

Carol resisted the urge to squeal and do a victory dance, settling for a broad smile. She picked up her boots, heading for her attic, stopping on the way to kiss him on the cheek. She felt him freeze but she did it anyway. "Thank you, Daryl." She said softly, walking away.

He rolled his eyes at her but she just laughed, the sound carrying until she reached the door to her room.

Damn women, he thought.

TWDTWDTWD

Three days later, the rain had finally stopped and wall was complete. There was a sigh of collective relief when the last brick went down and normal service could be resumed. Carol was itching to make the trip into town and was overjoyed when Daryl announced they would be making the trip the next day. It would just be the two of them, he had informed Rick and they would be going for just the clothes. Anything else would be a bonus. Rick understood, knowing that Carol's first time out had to go smoothly. Glenn told them of a women's clothing store not too far from the outskirts, the store not too big for them to search and that was the only place they were aiming for.

Daryl sat on the porch the evening before, prepping the guns for the next day. He'd been debating with himself about whether or not to give Carol one. She had no clue how to use it, although he would give her a rundown on how to do so, without actually firing it. But using a firearm in Newtown was only as a last resort, the sound drawing every Walker for miles to them. He worried that she would use it without thinking, just to kill. He wanted to give her every weapon he could though, whatever it took to protect herself.

He heard footsteps approach him and for a split second he thought it was her, taking a break from her cooking, tonight was going to be rabbit stew. He quickly realised that the steps were too heavy to be Carol's and he looked up to see Lori Grimes approaching him. Never a good thing, he noted.

"Hey." She sat beside him without invitation and he nodded back, not stopping his cleaning. "I'm gonna cut to the chase here, Daryl. Do you think it's wise taking Carol with you tomorrow?"

He stopped and looked up at her, hardness crossing his features. "It's gonna be fine."

"You sure about that? Because a few weeks ago, Carol had never even come close to handling a weapon." Lori fidgeted with the dish towel in her lap.

"I ain't worried about her handlin' weapons. She uses that bow like she were born with it in her hand." He put the gun back together quickly, eager to get away.

"There's a difference between killing a squirrel and killing a Walker, Daryl."

"Yeah and she's done that too. This is my call, Lori. She's come a long way since Atlanta. Lot more'n you think." He tried to not to raise his voice, the window to the kitchen was ajar and only a few feet away.

"It's a lot to handle, not when she doesn't have to!" Lori stood up as he did, watching him scoop up the guns.

"Not now she doesn't have to, sure, but who knows 'bout next week? Next month? Next year? None of us know how long we got here, she deserves a chance to protect herself!" He couldn't help yelling now. "Trust her."

"I do! It's just -" Lori threw her hands up in defence.

"You mean you don't trust me? That I ain't taught her well enough?" Daryl cut off his tirade when the porch door swung open, Carol standing there, plate in hand.

"Everything alright?" She asked, looking from Daryl to Lori and back again.

"Sure." Daryl answered, striding towards her. "Dinner smells great." He brushed past her, refusing to look her in the eye.

"Sure does." Lori agreed, following him in.

Carol hadn't heard the argument, only the raised voices of the two people she was closest to but she instinctively knew it was about her.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Apologies for the shorter last chapter, thank you for reading it anyway.

Enjoy!

TWDTWDTWD

Carol was already up and dressed when Daryl came to wake her. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she laced up her boots, tucking the hems of her cargo pants into them. He opened the door without knocking, as always, and he seemed surprised to see her ready to go.

"We'll go huntin' later instead." He told her, adjusting the bow on his back. "Let's just get this over with."

"I could go with Glenn or Rick if you'd prefer." Carol didn't look at Daryl as she said it. She knew how he would take _that_. "If you'd rather go hunting instead." She shrugged, taking her coat off of the back of her door, slipping it on.

He snorted with derision. "Fuck that." Was all he had to say on the matter, before he headed down the stairs. As she pulled on her bow and quiver, she heard him talking to Rick, telling him that they were going earlier than intended.

Daryl would rather lock her in the attic for all of eternity before letting her take a trip out without him. He trained her, made her as good as she was and he'd be fucked if he was not going to see the fruits of his labour. Besides, none of the others knew how she worked. The operated together well, she was one of the few people who didn't piss him off and they didn't need to speak to know what the other one was going to do.

He was waiting for her in the jeep when she got outside, it was a newer one they'd found a few weeks previous, abandoned on the way into Newtown, perfect for small hauls. He had the window rolled down, despite the chill in the air, arm draped over the door.

"You comin' anytime soon or what?" He drawled at her, although there was no real malice in his tone. There never was anymore, she'd noticed. Not with _her _anyway.

She lifted herself into the passenger seat without any real hurry and he handed her a pistol before she could put on her seatbelt.

"The safety is this bit." He turned flicked the safety catch to demonstrate. "Point and pull the trigger." He passed it over to her.

"I've never used a gun before." She told him, turning the weapon around in her hands.

"It's an absolute last resort. When nothin' else can do it. You know that the minute that thing goes off, every Geek f'miles will be swarmin' round. If there's no other way." He stressed this point to her, making her understand.

She nodded, lifting her hips off the seat to tuck the gun into her waistband, to the left of her knife.

"Last resort." She repeated to him. "If it comes to it."

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They parked the car at the rear of the store, the delivery entrance shutters were rolled up four foot or so and Daryl lead them towards them, crossbow pointed ahead. A Walker appeared from an abandoned truck and Carol took the first kill, using her bow. It hit the thing in the temple and she looked around the area before rushing to retrieve the arrow. He motioned for her to keep watch whilst he crouched low, scanning the poorly lit stock room for movement. He pulled out a torch, flashing it experimentally and jumped back when a rotting hand snatched out, crawling under the shutters. Daryl dropped the torch and pulled out his knife, standing on its arm before the thing could stand up, depositing his weapon into it's brain.

Eventually, they made it to the shop floor, where they could see two Walkers. Carol shouldered her bow, unsheathing her knife, she made her way to the first one, a female, dressed in a dirty green dress, one shoe still on its foot. It spotted her and groaned in anticipation, stumbling to catch her. Carol grabbed it by the back of its collar and threw her weight into the knife, the blade was long and it cut through the rotting skull cleanly. As she pulled the knife back, she saw Daryl taking out the other one, it hadn't even spotted him.

When Daryl determined that the shop was clear, he headed to the front of the store, one of the doors was open, a body preventing it from swinging shut. Not sure whether it was dead or undead, he released an arrow on it, before kicking it out the door, turning the dead bolt over afterward.

He signalled for Carol to start searching and she pulled the trash liners from her jacket pocket, opening one out, ready to starting loading up. She rifled through the racks quickly, not looking for anything in a particular colour, just what was her size. Two camisoles went in first, then two plaid shirts in earthy colours, they reminded her of something Daryl might wear. She spotted a few more in other colours and she snatched them up, thinking they would be good for the other women. She moved on to tshirts, grabbing a handful of basics, and a knitted cardigan, hers was wearing thin. She pulled some sweaters in for the girls too. Everyone seemed to be living in tshirts or coats, with nothing in between and the weather was just reaching cool now, not quite cold.

Daryl paced a wide circle around her, keeping an eye out and she moved to pants, picking out jeans and cargo pants, she spotted a sleeveless denim jacket, held it up against herself to check for size before throwing it in. Maggie and Beth were slight, if it didn't fit her, it would fit them. As she moved over to the accessories section of the store, she stopped, her gaze falling to a rack of red dresses. They were modest, sleeves that would reach the elbows, hemlines that would fall to the knee but she eyed them enviously.

The dress reminded her of one that she'd picked up from the back of someone's car, that day when she lost Sophia. Lori turned and looked at her like she had two heads, wondering why she would dare pick up up something so frivolous. Lori would never understand. Ed had dictated what she wore from day one of their marriage. What haircut she had, what jewellery she wore, what deodorant she used, she never had a say in anything. Lori, for all her good qualities, would never understand that.

She snatched the first one up quickly, hoping Daryl didn't notice. She glanced up and he still had his back to her, so she figured she was safe. As if he knew she was looking at him, he turned to her and she picked up a knitted hat on the nearest stand and gestured to the corner of the store, where the undergarments were laid out.

She dragged the first bag to the stockroom door first, ready for pick up on the way out and opened the second. She flicked through the bras quickly, trying to find her size and she found herself picking out types she would never have worn before, in her haste to find something. There was no time for matching panties, not that she had any reason for matching sets, she just threw in what she could, guessing sizes for the other girls. They'd all be grateful for the underwear. They only had two or three pairs each and handwashing them everyday, particularly when the weather was bad, was irritating at best. Socks went in by packets, dozens of them would be shared out.

Pajamas were the last thing she grabbed, a flannel set. Daryl appeared in her room more and more and she felt some what embarrassed to be spotted in the nightdress she wore to sleep, even though he never appeared to notice anything. As she twisted the bag into a knot she felt something brush her leg and she nearly screamed, instead, taking in a sharp breath. She dropped the bag and pulled out her knife.

The Walker had only it's head and half it's torso, but it still attempted to drag it's self to her, the entrails trailing behind it. It made Carol want to vomit but instead she thrust her knife into it's head. Daryl heard the noise and made his way to her but she was already wiping the blade on the leg of her pants.

"You alright?" He muttered, kicking the carcass out of her way.

"I'm fine." She whispered back, picking the bag up again. "I'm done."

He led the way out of the store, picking up the second bag on the way. Daryl entered the stockroom carefully, but there were no Walkers there, only the body of the earlier one he took out by the shutters.

As they jumped in the car, throwing the sacks onto the back seat, Carol let out a sigh of relief. She'd expected hundreds of Walkers, she'd been warned by everyone who'd been to Newtown of the swarms that roamed on the main street.

She buckled her seat belt as Daryl pealed off from the lot, because the man drove like a maniac and she'd be damned that she'd die from crashing a car in this crazy world.

"So, is there time to go to a grocery store?" She finally asked, as he swerved to avoid a lone Walker.

"Fuck no. That's enough for one day." He told her, not taking his eyes off the road.

"We've got hours!" She protested.

"Don't get cocky Carol. One store at a time."

"You're doing it again." She chastised him, folding her arms and looking out the window.

"Doin' what?" He muttered, but he knew damn well what she would say.

"Being overprotective! You know I can do it. I just damn well did it!" She tried to keep her voice from becoming shrill, but they seemed to have the same problem all the time and it was getting tiresome.

"Look, it was your first time. It was way too quiet out there, I didn't like it. 'Sides, the grocery store has always got tons of the fuckers out front. You did well, I ain't sayin' you didn't. Just take it easy."

"I'm going out again, you know that right?" She told him resolutely, propping a foot on the dashboard.

"As if I could fuckin' stop you. I created a monster." He smirked at her and she laughed.

She unfolded herself and relaxed into the seat. Not a monster, she thought. A _survivor_.

TWDTWDTWD

He helped her take the bags upstairs, after the group congratulated Carol on her first outing. Maggie and Beth were preparing lunch, whilst she sorted through the heap of clothing, pulling her own out and setting aside the extras for the others.

Daryl lounged on her bed, flicking through the book on her nightstand idly as she folded things into her chest of drawers.

"Get your boots off my bed, Daryl Dixon." She warned him lightly. He huffed but toed off his shoes anyway.

"What the hell is that?" He looked up to see her, holding the dress, pulling the tags off and folding it.

"What's it look like?" She asked defensively.

"I know what it is." He put the book down and sat up to look at her properly. "Just wonderin' if it's the kinda gear you'd wear to go kill a deer."

She tilted her head and looked at him, amused that Daryl had cracked a joke.

"I just wanted it. I always wanted a red dress, never was allowed one. I know I'll never wear it and that if we leave here, it'll be the first thing I would leave behind. But...I just wanted it. You ever have things you just desired?" Sitting beside him and running her hands over the bodice of the dress.

"Ya didn't have anythin' you wanted in the Dixon household, 'cause as soon as someone else knew 'bout it, it got taken away." He told her, resuming his flicking through the book.

"It isn't the Dixon house anymore, Daryl." She told him softly. He didn't answer, so she stood up and folded it into the bottom drawer of the dresser.

She finished pulling tags of everything and putting things away, slipping off the threadbare cardigan she wore over a tanktop and replacing it with one of her new plaid shirts. She joined him back on bed, buttoning up as she went. He put the book down and watched her do up the buttons. They sat in silence for a few moments. It was nice, she thought. Some things just didn't need to be said.

"You should wear the damn dress, if thats what you want." He finally said. She smiled at him. Sure some things didn't need to be said, but there were some things that did. Maybe she'd wear the dress hunting tomorrow, just to see his face.


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note: Thank you for being awesome. Maybe the red dress will appear later on...

TWDTWDTWD

She knew she'd won the battle with Daryl about going to town when Rick added her to the roster. Even Lori seemed to come around, when Carol presented her with a pack of socks, several bras and a sweater. Daryl must have insisted on being paired with Carol everytime, though she never heard him or Rick say anything about the matter, because they always went together, occasionally accompanied by a third man. She thought that Daryl would ease up about it, when every time they arrived back safely, laden with supplies for the house but if anything, he got worse. He came up to her room every evening before her turn to go out, telling her of the multiple ways she could be useful if she stayed back in the house. His tone was beginning to sound more like pleading, something she'd never heard him do before.

Daryl knew he was failing when it came to persuading her to stay back. He couldn't explain it himself, but he became more and more protective of her with every trip out. She was becoming less fearful and the confidence in her own skills were bettering them everyday. He was becoming distracted. Everytime they went into Newtown, he found himself watching her like a hawk, instead of watching his own ass. He had a couple of near-misses that he would never have had normally. He considered telling Rick that he wasn't going to go out with her, for both their sakes but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He knew he'd be wearing a hole in the floor the entire time she was gone.

He briefly considered what all this meant. He tried not to think about feelings. The only feelings he felt comfortable with were anger and hate. He didn't know anything about this. He couldn't put a label on it. All he knew is that he didn't want her to get hurt. Hell, he didn't want anyone to get hurt, but especially her. He knew he would throw them all into the fire to stop her getting hurt.

But she wouldn't listen to him. She even laughed at him and it made him mad. She didn't take her own safety as serious as he did. He wanted to throw something at the wall everytime she shot him down. She pushed him for an answer as to why he was being so pigheaded about it all, but he couldn't give her an answer. It was his own fault. He made her this way.

TWDTWDTWD

The weather had definitely turned and the group estimated that it was the beginning of November. The group's determination to stock up supplies for the winter months meant that every room in the house held some sort of stock. Carol's room was the biggest in terms of floor space, although as an attic, the majority of it couldn't be stood up in properly, so every wall edge was lined with boxes of tins, plastic drums of water and bags of toiletries.

There were only a couple more things to get hold of, some baking goods that she and the other women desperately wanted, like flour, sugar and powdered eggs, so she was accompanying Glenn, Rick and Daryl for that trip. It was agreed that they couldn't be trusted to get the things themselves and Carol was eager to see what they could find. Meals consisted of kills made that morning in the forest, rice and tinned vegetables and she was looking forward to picking up some herbs and spices.

The day after, T-Dog would be taking her place, in an effort for some more ammunition for the guns. Just in case.

Glenn was jumpy as always, before any run. He was excited by the potential stop into the library. Rick had agreed, books weren't essential, but there would be less to do over the winter months and it might stop everyone from going stircrazy. Lori had been wanting to start back doing some schoolwork with Carl now that they'd settled for a little while. Daryl didn't really see the point. The kid could read just fine and he was smart enough to know that one Walker plus one Walker equalled get your knife out and kill the bastards. Carl had been pestering him for weeks to show him how to hunt and he was considering taking him fishing, just to shut him up.

Daryl took over the driving for the way in. Glenn was chewing Carol's ear off in the back seat about comic books he'd left behind and hoping he could get hold of them in the library and she was sitting there nodding politely even though Daryl could tell from looking at her in the rear view mirror that she didn't have a fucking clue what he was jawing on about.

"Glenn, shut the fuck up man, you're givin' me earache." He growled eventually, as they rolled into town.

"Sorry. Just excited." He told them fiddling with baseball cap. "I think I might have forgotten how to read, it's been so long."

"It's the last thing we do here, Glenn." Rick warned the younger man. "Food first."

"I know, I know. It's gonna be fine, we've mastered the art of getting in and out of town."

It turned out, Glenn was right. Between the four of them, it was a lot easier, Daryl and Rick usually went first, taking out Walkers left and right to get them into the building. Carol and Glenn would follow, head straight to get the goods they wanted whilst the other two circled them, eyes peeled for any strays. Carol loaded up the back packs quickly, trying to distribute the heavy items evenly. Glenn got excited to find ketchup and loaded three bottles into his own bag, weighing it down further.

After tossing the bags in the back of the jeep they moved the car closer to the library. The back entrance had been boarded up, with no hope of breaking it down, unless they wanted to make enough noise to draw every Walker for miles. Daryl was all for giving up and heading back to the house, but he relented when Carol shot him a pleading look.

"Come on Daryl, it'd be nice to have something else to do." She told him, pouting her lips. It was an old trick, an underhand one at that, but it did the job. He let out a deep breath and sighed.

"It's your call." Rick told him, with a jerk of his head.

"Fine." He started the ignition on the car to bring it round the front of the building. The library had steps leading up to it, the doors the heavy kind that took some work to get moving.

Daryl hung out of the window of the car, shooting arrows left and right, popping off several Walkers, whilst the other three made a run to the building, once he retrieved his arrows and followed them, helping to shift the doors, that were stiff from lack of use.

It was huge and dusty inside, Carol had to resist the urge to cough, in case there were plenty of them, light streamed in from large windows that were set up high in the walls. This place had not been disturbed. She spotted a trolley by the reception desk, the kind where people put their returned books and she and Glenn used to pile up their spoils. Glenn and Rick stalked around, but there wasn't a Walker to be seen. Daryl and Rick made the first run back to the car, throwing books haphazardly through the windows and headed back to building to hurry the other two along. Glenn was in his element, picking up fistfuls of his favourite comics.

As the two entered the building, they heard barking from behind them and were astonished to see a large sandy dog running for its life down the street. They backed up into the building in fear though, spotting the dozens of Walkers chasing it, stumbling and hobbling for food.

They looked at each other and back out onto the road. The single minded Walkers hadn't even spotted them. Then they heard the scream. It was behind them. It was female. Daryl felt his heart pounding as he raced down the back of the library and thought he was going to vomit when he saw the sight before him.

Carol lay on the ground, tears rolling down her cheeks, clutching her thigh, which was surrounded by a pool of blood. Glenn was struggling to pull the heavy carcass of the Walker he had just killed from her feet.

"Fuck!" Daryl threw his crossbow to the ground and knelt beside her, fumbling at the torn material of her pants leg, trying to get a look at the wound. He was panicking, trying to push her hands out of the way to see clearly. "Fuck, did it bite you?" He shouted at her, ripping the leg of her trousers. She didn't answer him, she was gritting her teeth in agony her bloody hand digging painfully into his shoulder.

Rick was talking to a shook up Glenn at the same time, trying to find out what happened. He was shaking profusely, rubbing his red hands on his jeans. "It's not a bite. I swear, it's not. I caught her with my knife!" He blurted, picking up the fallen weapon from the floor.

"Carol, is he right?" Daryl was screaming at her now, all he could see were pools of blood. "Tell me what the fuck happened?" He put a bloody hand to her chin, forcing her to look at him, her teary gaze focused on her leg, finally she nodded.

"It came from nowhere, it fell on her and I tried to stab it before I pulled it off, I caught her leg!" Glenn's words came tumbling out but Daryl ignored him, he pulled the scarf from around Carol's neck, tying it around her thigh. She groaned as he pulled it tight, to stop the bleeding.

"I'm going to fuckin' kill you." Was all he said to the younger man. He pulled the bow from her back, handing it to Rick, who had picked up his crossbow, allowing him to pick her up easier. She was light in his arms, one hand behind her knees, the other her back, she clung to his neck as he raced from the building, the other two close behind him. He pushed books out the way to slide her onto the back seat, using his own body to cushion her. Rick jumped in the driver's side, putting the car into drive and racing out of town.

TWDTWDTWD

Her tears had subsided by the time the reached the town's edge, replaced with sharp intakes of breath and hissing everytime they hit a bump in the road or turned a sharp corner. The tourniquet seemed to be doing it's job, the blood had soaked through the scarf but wasn't going any further.

Daryl sat with his back against the door, she was sandwiched between his legs, clinging to his pants legs everytime the pain became unbearable. He didn't know what to do, what to say. Ultimately, he was relieved. She hadn't been bit. When he thought she had, his heart stopped. He wanted to vomit, pass out, die with her. Anything. He could see the wound when he tied the tourniquet, a long cut around 7 inches and he didn't think he could see it going too deep. Despite her pain, he was glad. She hadn't passed out from the blood loss and that was a good sign. Hopefully Hershel would be able to patch up the wound quickly and cleanly and give her something to take the pain away.

"It was an accident." She breathed at him weakly. She could feel his hands clenching around her wrists as she grasped him. "Glenn saved my life."

"He nearly fuckin' killed you." He told her, shooting a mutinous glare at the young man in question, who turned and gave a reproachful stare.

"I'm so sorry Carol, I...I just wanted to get it off you, I panicked." He told her, twisting in the seat to look at her.

She smiled weakly. "It was an accident. I would've got bit otherwise."

Daryl snorted and she pressed her hand to his, so he bit back the retort that was on the tip of his tongue.

They beeped the horn as they pulled up to the house, a few seconds later T-Dog and Hershel came running to the doors to open them, their faces dropping when they saw the back seat of the car. Daryl opened the door before the jeep even stopped, carrying Carol from the car to the house. Hershel shouted at him to take her to the dining room and began barking orders at Beth and Maggie for supplies, as Rick filled him in on what happened.

Within two minutes, the entire group had converged in the dining room, whilst Daryl cut away the rest of her trouser leg on the dining room table. The group all spoke over one an other trying to find out what happened and eventually Hershel yelled at them all to get out, leaving only Maggie to help him.

Daryl didn't move and he'd've loved to see the old man try and make him. Hershel just looked at him, telling him move up the top of the table, near Carol's head. Tears began to fall again as the veternarian began cleaning up the wound, the sting was unbearable. Daryl murmured comfort to her as best he could, placing his hands either side of her face to soothe her somewhat.

Eventually it was over and Hershel ordered him to take her up to the attic. Lori and Beth came up behind him and he wanted to tell them to fuck off and leave him with her, but they carried bowls of water and he realised they were going to clean her up. He excused himself, promising her he'd back in minutes and went down to the bathroom to scrub her blood from his hands.

When he heard them coming back down, he went up, dressed in a fresh shirt. She was lying on the bed, dressed in a nightdress, the blankets pulled up to her waist. She seemed sleepy, the medication Hershel had administered already kicking in. She smiled when he shut the door and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Thank you for today."

"I haven't fuckin' killed Glenn yet." He told her.

"Don't." She pleaded, reaching out for his hand. "I'll take a stab to the thigh over a bite any day of the week."

He didn't respond, but he let her take his hand. She looked pale and frail in the bed. He decided she was never going out the house again. He'd always wondered what he was surviving for. Now he knew, he was alive to protect her.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Thank you for your kind words. Praxid asked me what bow Carol uses and I picture her with a recurve bow. :) I can see this growing to around the 13/14 chapter mark, possibly a little more, the last three chapters were originally condensed into 1.5 but I elaborated a bit. This chapter was meant to be like, three paragraphs long but I got a leeeeeetle bit crazy.

TWDTWDTWD

He stayed with her that first night. Beth brought dinner up for them both, a tray laden with the spoils of their trip and it made him angry to look at it. He wanted to throw the tray down the stairs. Tinned pudding was not worth her getting stabbed in the leg. Still, he settled for clenching his fists against his sides when the young girl settled the tray at the end of the bed with a smile.

"Is that rosemary I can smell?" Carol asked, as she pushed herself up to a sitting position, Beth leant over to prop the pillows behind her.

"Yeah, Lori put it in the rabbit." Beth answered her. "And I got you these." She reached into the pockets of her hooded sweater and fished out two cans of soda, setting them on the bedside table.

"Thank you Beth." She said to the girl, who nodded and left as quickly as she came, most likely eager to get to her own meal. Carol leaned forward to grab the tray and drag it closer, but Daryl got there first, pulling his own plate off the tray before sliding it into her lap. He leant over her to reach for the soda cans, popping the tab on hers and setting it onto the tray.

"Thank you. But my arms do work, you know." Carol joked, picking up her fork.

"You need to rest. Everythin' heals quicker that way." He told her, propping his plate on his knee to eat his own meal.

She just smiled at her plate and continued digging her way through the instant mashed potato, occassionally sipping soda. They ate in silence, as was their way most of the time, Daryl just shot her a glance every now and then, which Carol pretended not to notice. As soon as she put her spoon down after her last mouthful of dessert, he cleared the tray from her, getting up to take it downstairs.

"I'll be back in a minute." He told her, disappearing down the stairs.

As soon as she heard his footsteps tail off, she threw the covers back, shimmying herself to the edge of the bed. She'd been waiting for the opportunity for a couple of hours now, wanting to use the bathroom but not wanting to cause a fuss. Daryl surely would call one of the other women to help her and she couldn't bear such a fuss over her needing to pee. Its was mortifying enough earlier that day, all of them crowding round the dining table, witnessing her gasping and sobbing.

She clutched the bed post tightly as she lifted herself off the edge of the bed, trying to push her weight onto her good leg. She took a tentative step forward and caught herself just before she stumbled head first into the dresser. She stopped herself from crying out, biting her lip and braced the thigh with the palm of her hand. Using the boxes surrounding her walls, as well as the other furniture, she managed to make it to the door, finding it easier to use the leg if she touched the ground only with the ball of her heel.

She reached the top of the stairs and fumbled for the banisters, getting a good grip on them, using her arms to hold her weight as she swung herself slowly down the steps, hissing everytime she made contact with the next one. Her whole leg seemed to be throbbing, although Hershel told her that would be normal for the first few days. She'd only made it down four of the fifteen steps when she heard Daryl returning. She cursed inwardly for the tongue-lashing that was sure to come.

He had a grimace on his face the moment he turned the corner, pounding up the steps to meet her.

"Where the fuck do you think you're goin'? He growled at her. He didn't even wait for an answer before he scooped her up, ready to take her back to her room.

"Put me down, Daryl! I need to use the bathroom!" She protested, thumping him none too gently on the shoulder. He stopped in his tracks and drew her closer to him to turn on the narrow staircase without bumping her head or feet.

"You should have fuckin' said. I woulda brought you down an' got Lori to help." He took the stairs slowly, kicking the bathroom door open with his foot. "I'll go get Lori." He muttered, making to set her down on the chair in the corner of the room.

"No, don't. Please." She fisted the shoulder of his shirt in her hand. "I got halfway down the stairs. I can have three minutes of privacy to use the bathroom. Please, Daryl."

He set her down on the chair gently, gazing at her in assessment. "Three minutes." He told her, backing to the door. "I'm waitin' outside. Don't lock the damned door." Without waiting for her to respond, he shut it lightly.

He leant against the wall as he waited for her, huffing to himself folding and unfolding his arms. There she went again, pissing him off as usual. The woman didn't know when to just listen to him. She spent her whole life listening to some lazy bastard, doing everything he asked from her, but for him she wouldn't listen to a damned word he said. It made him beyond angry that she was struggling to do this when she didn't have to.

Carol flushed the toilet and hobbled to the sink slowly, resting against the edge of the bathtub to wash her hands and brush her teeth. She relished the few minutes of being able to do something for herself. It had been only a few short hours since she'd started being "babysat" but it was already getting tiresome.

Daryl would be even more unbearably protective. She knew that when she walking properly again, she would have an even bigger fight on her hands about getting out of their self-styled compound. She wondered if he even noticed the hypocrisy in his behaviour of late. He'd taken her out, taught her how to defend herself so that she could be self-sufficient. So she could contribute to the group in more essential ways. Now, he was completely betraying that ideal, wanting her to be the group's little surburban housewife once more. Not that she dismissed the role so easily, because she still enjoyed the cooking and the cleaning. It brought a little bit of civility in times where it was easy to be savage. But it was restricting and Carol refused to be to locked away in a little bubble ever again. She lived a lifetime in Ed's shadow and now she was enjoying her freedom.

Not that she was ever comparing Daryl to Ed, of course. Despite what less-informed members of the group might have thought, they were poles apart in terms of personality. Daryl was not selfish, in spite of his rough-around-the-edges demeanour. He provided for the group daily despite the risk to his own life. He went in to town for things he didn't even feel they needed because someone asked. Not like Ed, who sat on his ass all day watching others do the dirty work.

Daryl didn't stop her doing anything that she took pleasure in. He only ever tried to protect her, cushion her from all the bad things in the world. As frustrating as it was, she knew he wasn't doing it to hurt her or to gain something from it. It took her a little time to switch on to what he was trying to do and it surprised her a little. He _cared_ about her. He cared about the group, as much as he tried to dismiss any such notion, but he particularly cared about her. The thought made her smile as she dried her hands and reached out for the pot of moisturiser on the bathroom shelf. She smoothed the cream liberally over face, her skin had gone tight after all the tears that had fallen. She was screwing on the lid when there was a soft knock on the door and Daryl entered without waiting for a response.

"I didn't keel over and die." She told him, reaching out to put the cream back.

"Was longer'n three minutes." Was all he said, reaching over to pick her up.

She sighed but didn't say anything. Resistance was futile. She raised her arms, feeling like a small child and let him scoop her up to return her to her room.

He set her down on the bed, drawing the covers back up and tossing the book she had sitting on the dresser next to her on the bed.

"I'm gonna get candles. Don't even think 'bout movin' again." Her warned her, pointing his finger at her.

She mock saluted him and he smirked. She picked up the book when he left, flicking to find her last read page. He returned less than ten minutes later, candles in one hand, a bottle of water tucked under his arm and his duvet bundled up under the other.

"Hershel wants someone to stay up with you tonight." He told her, by way of explanation, tossing the duvet on the floor alongside her bed, before pulling a lighter from his pocket and setting the candles down on her bedside cabinet to light up the room that was dimming quickly.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to." She told him, watching him spread the duvet out.

"I know." He fished out a little orange bottle from his pocket and plucked two pills from the vial, handing them to her before unscrewing the bottle of water and passing that over aswell. "It'll help you sleep. Pain always gets worse when ya try to get to sleep."

Carol tipped her head back to swallow the white capsules, taking a swig of water. "They won't knock me out, will they?" She asked fearfully, only realising to ask after they slid down her throat.

He shook his head. "They ain't sleepin' tablets. Just painkillers, make ya bit drowsy though."

"Let's hope we don't get attacked by Walkers tonight then." She said conversationally.

"We won't." He kicked his boots off and pulled a worn paperback from his back pocket, before sitting down on the floor, parallel to her.

"Don't sleep down there." She leant over the bed, to skim her hand over his shoulder and was pleased when he didn't freeze at her touch.

"I slept on worse places than a floor before, Carol." He told her, leaning back on his elbows.

"You don't have to, there's plenty of room up here." She instantly regretted how the words came out of her mouth. It sounded like she was propositioning him. Not that she wouldn't _want _to be like that with him - she cut herself from that train of thought quickly before he saw her blush. She knew he cared about her, it was definitely different to how he felt with the others. And she cared about him. It had been slow burning, for her, most definitely. She'd conditioned herself not to look at men over the years, it was safer that way. But when she saw the way he looked for her daughter, she knew instantly what kind of man he was and it was attractive.

But they were both screwed up. Ed was her only relationship. Not exactly the best example of how a couple should work. He hardly ever spoke of his past, certainly never mentioned any girlfriends, although he'd told her that he never got married or even close to it. She got the impression that he didn't have much experience in that department either. He never touched any of the others unless it involved a fight. He used to freeze at any attempt at contact from anyone, even her at first. Now he was more relaxed about her proximity to him, only occassionally being startled by her touch.

"I don't wanna hurt your leg." He answered her finally.

"There's plenty of room." She blurted out and she mentally kicked herself the minute the words were out. Talk about sounding desperate, she thought. "I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, but it's more comfortable."

He looked at the bed, then her, gaze travelling down to her leg and back to her face again.

"Fine." He pushed himself off from the floor, walking round to the empty side of the bed as she pulled the rest of the quilt back allowing him to sit beside her.

They read in silence for over an hour, until the sky went completely black and even candlelight wasn't enough to read her book easily. Or maybe it was the drugs kicking in, Carol thought. She turned down the corner of the page and tossed the book on the floor. Daryl followed suit and helped her move the pillows from behind her back so she could lie back.

"You can keep reading. The light won't disturb me." She told him drowsily, thumping her pillow into shape.

"Nah, I'm good." He leant over her to snuff out the candles on her side of the bed before doing the same to ones nearest to his side.

"Thank you for looking after me Daryl." She murmured. She could feel her eyelids getting heavier, but she reached out and touched him, hand brushing his jaw and neck blindly.

He didn't say anything at all at first and Carol thought she had made a massive faux-pas. But just as she made to move her hand, he reached up with his own and stroked her fingers lightly, running his hand up her wrist as she settled her own against his throat.

"Anytime." He replied, his voice thick. He released her forearm and shuffled closer to her, turning on his side to face her, even though he couldn't actually see her at all, draping his arm over her hips as she moved her hand to his hair. She fell asleep before she could even blush at the thought of what she was doing with this man.

She woke up easily, long before dawn. Her first thought was that she felt warm. Then she realised why. Daryl had shifted even closer to her in his sleep, his leg hitched over her one good one, his arms tight underneath her chest, fingers splayed against her ribcage. He'd buried his face on her shoulder, she could feel his hot breath against her neck. She moved her arm from under her pillow to rest over his and he tightened his grip on her in his sleep.

Taking the tablets long before her usual bedtime, combined with half a day's rest the day before, meant she could quite easily get up for the day, if her leg allowed it. Today, she decided, she would sleep in. Her bed, and the man inside it, were far too comfortable.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: So yeah, last chapter was one gigantic ball of fluff wasn't it? I'm sure I declared during chapter 1 that I was going to try to steer away from that. Oops. Thank you for the reviews, I see you like the fluffy stuff anyway.

TWDTWDWD

She spent another long, boring day in her room. Hershel insisted, telling her she needed the rest after such blood loss. The highlight was getting her bandages changed before lunch, where Daryl sat smugly in the corner with his arms folded, looking at her pointedly when Hershel shot down her protests that she wanted to go downstairs, even just to sit at the kitchen table and help the other women prepare the meals for the day. Daryl hadn't even answered her when she'd asked him to help her down the stairs, just glancing at her in disbelief, before picking up her book from the floor where she'd left it the night before.

He stayed with her till after lunch, when Lori came up with plates of sandwiches and glasses of cordial and she addressed Daryl properly for the first time since their argument a few weeks ago.

"Rick's asking if you'll help with chopping wood." She said, handing him his plate.

Daryl glanced at Carol, who was picking at the edge of her sandwich delicately, one eyebrow raised.

"I'll keep Carol company." She added, spotting his concerned glance.

He nodded and picked up his plate to take downstairs. "She'll try and get you to let her get up. She's sneaky about it, but ignore her." He told Lori, ignoring Carol's sigh of frustration and heading downstairs.

"How you feeling today Carol?" Lori asked conversationally, taking Daryl's spot at the edge of the bed.

"I'm bored out of my mind here. I'm _fine_, really. I know I can't go hunting until the cut heals, but is it really too much to ask to just go sit downstairs?" Carol looked at Lori beeseechingly.

"Honey, you know you've gotta rest up. And to be quite honest with you, if I let you out of here, I'm pretty sure Daryl will kill me and I ain't ready to die that way." Lori chuckled and Carol couldn't help but smile in agreement. It was true. She was amazed that he even left the room. She urged him to go hunting that morning, but he refused, telling her they could give him a day off once in awhile.

"He'll get bored of hanging around up here by tomorrow." Carol told her, popping a bit of sandwich in her mouth.

"I doubt." Lori clacked her tongue. "I'd say he's pretty smitten with you."

"Smitten? I wouldn't quite put it like that, Lori." Carol tried to hide her smile, she didn't know if that was quite the word she would choose, but it was something like that.

"Don't you act all coy with me, Carol Peletier. I know that when I volunteered to come up and stay with you last night, the man damn near bit my head off. I know that he insisted on taking you out on every trip into town, made Rick promise before he'd let you go on the roster. He's always got his eye on you, haven't you even noticed?" Lori snatched a handful of raisins from the bowl on Carol's tray.

"I think your eyes are betraying you a little bit on that last one."

"They are not. You walk out of a room, so does he. He watches you like a hawk. You go to the bathroom and he asks you where you're going. He never goes to bed until he knows you have."

Carol raised an eyebrow as Lori reeled off her list. She didn't even notice half the things Lori mentioned. She and Daryl spent so much time together, everything became second nature. Sure, they worked in harmony together, he'd pass her things she couldn't reach without her asking or would bring her a drink before she even knew she was thirsty, but wasn't that to be expected? They all knew each other's little mannerisms and quirks. That was normal, there was only ten of them. She and Daryl, they just knew each other that little bit better.

"It's not like that." She said delicately, indicating the matter dealt with. If she couldn't put a label on it, how could she expect to explain it to Lori?

TWDTWDTWD

He stayed with her again that evening. She spent the afternoon with Lori, Beth and Maggie. The latter two initially came up to sneek a peek through Carol's slanted skylight windows. They'd heard that Daryl and T-Dog were giving Glenn a lesson on how to correctly chop wood and it wasn't going too well. They giggled out of the window, watching the argument they could see happening, although they weren't close enough to hear all the words. Eventually Rick noticed them, shooting them what Beth called a "death stare" and they came in and shut the window, joining Lori and Carol on the bed.

Daryl came up only once, mid afternoon, bearing more pills for her to take. He'd intended to sit with her again, but all four women in one small room was more intimidating than he liked to admit, so he figured he'd wait until they left to make dinner.

Carl wanted to be the one to sit with her for dinner and he found himself missing her presence. Aside from sleeping, he hardly ever spent so much time apart from her. She was his compass, where she went, so did he and after finishing the wood chopping, he was directionless.

Still, he managed to offload the kid after dinner and Carol yawned as the young boy closed the door.

"Been doin' too much yappin', woman." He warned her.

"Oh hush up." She murmured back to him, but she felt the tiredness now. Sitting around doing nothing was worse than being busy, she thought. Her leg had began to ache something chronic now, she was ready for the next lot of painkillers, but she resisted pressing her hand to the bandage, lest Daryl see her do it. "I'm going to the bathroom." She knew he wouldn't let her get up so she made no motion to move, waiting for him to scoop her up.

She was quick in the bathroom. She heard him rush down the stairs and back up to her attic room before she even had time to brush her teeth. By the time she was drying her hands, he was knocking on the door, ready to take her up.

He didn't even justify as to why he was staying in her room that night and she didn't ask. She didn't care why he wanted to stay, she was just glad he did.

Daryl took the duvet down that morning and he didn't bring it back up again. He had his excuse ready, that he didn't trust her not to get up and about the minute she was alone - but she didn't ask, so he didn't tell.

She took the pills willingly enough and settled into bed straight away. He picked up the book he'd left on the bedside cabinet that morning as she murmured her goodnights to him. He carried on reading for an hour, but he couldn't help but steal glances at her. She wasn't asleep right away, her eyes flickering every so often, her hand reaching up to scratch an unseen itch behind her ear or in her hair. It was getting longer now, curling over her ears, the back almost touching her collar.

Eventually he gave up on concentrating on the page in front of him and kicked his boots off to get into the bed. She stirred slightly, feeling his movement and watched him as he peeled the covers back to join her. He stared at her, as if daring her to protest, but she said nothing.

He would never admit it, but sleeping in the same bed as Carol was good. He'd never shared a bed with a women before. Sure, he'd slept around a bit, especially when he did drugs with Merle, but he never, ever brought them home and he never stayed the night. When he kicked the drug habit at age 30, he kicked the women from his life too. Maybe it was the fact that they were hidden up in the attic, well away from any potential Walkers, but with her, it felt safe.

He'd woken up that morning with his whole body tangled around her, but he couldn't recall how they had come to be that way. It was good though. He'd do it again. If she let him.

He settled himself down in the bed and she pushed herself back towards his chest. She was letting him. He met her halfway across the bed, pulling her to him and she pushed her leg between his calves, sandwiching her leg with his. He wrapped his arm round her and she rested her hand over the top of his.

"You're going hunting tomorrow." She told him, face in her pillow.

"Yeah, yeah." He pushed his head into her neck and gripped her tighter. "We'll see."

TWDTWDTWD

It was light when she woke and she felt Daryl stir when she did. They'd shifted in their sleep again, this time Daryl was lower down the bed than she, using her stomach for a pillow, her feet were trapped between his knees. Her nightdress had ridden up, exposing her bandaged thigh and she wiggled herself to pull the material back down. It was hard to believe that he was even more fidgety in his sleep than he was when awake.

"You are going hunting today, Daryl Dixon." She told him firmly, once she felt his fingers flex against her hip.

He only grunted at her, not ready to get up.

"You are." She reiterated, but she didn't stop him from pressing himself closer.

Carol had convinced him that she was going back to sleep when he left. The reality was, that as soon as she was sure he'd left the house, she hobbled out of the bed, limping her way to the chest of drawers. She was eager to change into some real clothes.

She was dismayed, however,to find that her trousers were not going to slide over her thighs easily, the bulk of the bandage made it impossible. She threw them aside, rooting through the drawers to find the only other thing she knew would fit; the red dress that she'd hidden away. She saw the corner of it and made to tug it out but her hand skimmed over something else, the frayed edges of one of Daryl's shirts, the one he'd lent her a few weeks previous. His pants were folded underneath. She decided to save the dress for another occasion.

She managed to pull the clothes on, finding a belt to hold the pants up. It took her nearly fifteen minutes to make it down to the kitchen, but she was pleased to have made it without falling over, or anyone disturbing her. Her leg definitely hurt less today, the sharp pain reduced to a dull throb. She was surprised to see Rick in the kitchen and he jumped when he spotted her in the doorway.

"How did you get down here?" He asked, searching through the cupboards.

"Same way as everyone else." She retorted, making her way to him at the counter. "What are you looking for?"

"Lori's sick again, she mentioned a tea that helped but I can only see that chai stuff she hates."

"Out of the way, then. I'll do it." She reached for the cupboard to her right, pulling out the dried ginger. She'd made this for Lori after her first trip to the grocery store. The ginger steeped in hot water helped soothe the expecting woman's stomach somewhat.

She handed him the mug with a smile. "If Daryl asks, you carried me downstairs." She waggled her finger at him as he nodded and headed back upstairs.

TWDTWDTWD

Daryl could hear her laughter when he walked up the porch steps, string of squirrels in hand. He couldn't decide whether or not he was angry with her. He understood her frustration with being locked up in the attic and like he was, she was not good without something to do. But he wished she'd understand that he only wanted her to heal. He wasn't trying to be cruel.

She sat at the table, wearing an apron, kneading dough like it was going out of fashion, she was elbow deep in flour, a smudge of the stuff on her cheek. Carl had just raced out the door as he walked in.

"Hey." She greeted softly. "You've been busy." She nodded at the string of carcasses in his hand.

"On your own?" He asked, hanging the spoils on the back of the door.

"Lori's popped to the bathroom. Morning sickness." She grimaced, not stopping her motions with the bread. "Will you pass me that tray please?" She nodded over to the counter top by the sink. He washed his hands first, before doing as she asked. She began tearing up the dough, shaping them into rolls.

"How you feelin'?" He asked, pulling up a chair beside her.

"Just fine." She looked at him and he gazed at her, not sure of her answer. "Daryl, I'm fine. I've had my antibiotics, Hershel changed my dressing an hour ago. No, my leg isn't perfect, but it will be soon. Stop worrying."

He let out a sigh, apprantly content with this answer for now. He watched her work at shaping the rolls, noticing what she was wearing. He'd forgotten about those clothes. The shirt was his rusty pinstripe, the one he'd worn when the abandoned the Greene farm. It was threadbare in places, the edges frayed from where he'd ripped the sleeves off, a time so long ago, he couldn't remember when. It suited her, he thought.

Carol tried not to feel self conscious as he watched her work the dough. Lori's words were still ringing in her ears and she was aware of his every move now. She made to get up to push the tray into the oven, but he stopped her, taking it from her. She gave him a warning glance and continued to rise up, doing her best not to look like she was limping. "I'm fine." She pressed.

He had to fold his arms in an effort to stop himself from helping her. He was total pussy. He couldn't believe that woman made him behave like this. Merle would be laughing his ass of if he knew, then he'd give him a swift punch in the gut for being so stupid. He used to laugh at Rick and Glenn and now he was exactly the same. No, he was _worse_. At least their behaviour wasn't so far removed from their personalities.

He was a goner.

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Author's note: Omg, somebody punch me in the face. For realz. It's like I am spewing rainbow fluff everytime I type. I PROMISE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE LESS SOFT AROUND THE EDGES.


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: I've reached over three figures in reviews. This makes me want to curl in a ball and sob. I love you, people.

TWDTWDTWD

It took a week before he finally started easing off on carrying her about. Daryl went off hunting every morning, always back before lunch. Rick had asked him more than once to start making plans for their intended trip to Newtown for more weapons. Daryl insisted on waiting a little longer, she knew he was waiting until she was better. She wished he would go. Those few hours in the morning, where she was able to do as she pleased, were beginning to be the highlight of her day. Dare she say it, Daryl was irritating her. It was just plain _suffocating_.

He wouldn't let her do anything. Going from room to room meant being cradled like a baby, it was so embarrassing that when Daryl got back from hunting, she would only go into another room when absolutely necessary. He was forever plumping pillows, passing over cups of tea or telling Carl off for "tiring her out". She finally lost it with him when he tried to put her socks on for her one morning and screeched at him in frustration. It made her feel guilty as sin when he left the room, without saying a word. She ended up apologising to him.

At least he took the hint. She could see he had to restrain himself from doing things for her and she appreciated the effort. The girls kept making little digs at her, Lori laughing about how when Daryl fell for someone, he fell hard. Carol blushed and shrugged the joke off, although she was starting to think maybe it was true, not that she could be sure as to _why_, exactly.

Maggie had taken to lolling on the sofa beside her, asking Glenn to do every little thing for her, joking that he clearly didn't love her enough if he wouldn't do them. The young boy just rolled his eyes and ignored her, not wanting to get involved. Daryl didn't notice, or if he did, he just ignored her.

She loved his company, she truly did, but not like this. At night, when it was just the two of them and she was tucked up in bed, then he was normal. She enjoyed being with him those last few minutes before sleep and the first few when waking up in the morning. She wished for her leg to heal faster, so things could go back to normal. Except, he could stay in her bedroom when her leg healed. Or at least she hoped he would.

Her wound was getting smaller every day, soon the stitches would be out and she'd be left with nothing but a nasty scar. Hershel did well as a make-shift doctor, but as a vet, he didn't have much experience with neat stitches and minimising scarring. Not that it really mattered, it was better than being dead.

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Daryl knew that he was irritating her. He was used to irritating people though, so he ignored it. He tried to keep her distracted when he realised eventually, she was going to want to leave the compound. He hoped that by giving her things to do, to take her mind off of outside, she'd give up on it. So he handed her sewing and darning, so she'd sit by the fire all afternoon. Talk about favourite foods so that she'd spend all day in the kitchen, conjuring them up to the best of her ability. He even managed to get Carl in on the act, bribing the boy with fishing lessons in exchange for taking up Carol's time. He had to hand it to the kid, he took it seriously. He had Carol sitting with him for his schoolwork, asking her to read him stories that Daryl knew damn well he was too old for. Carl even asked her for a haircut, which wound up with her sitting every last one of them on a stool for a trim, taking her the entire day.

At the end of every day, she'd crawl into bed, exhausted, never once mentioning "outside". He would let her go hunting, if she asked, he decided. He could look after her there, they never met more than a couple of Walkers at a time, an easy task.

His plan was going well, he thought until that old fool Hershel ruined it.

They'd been sitting in the living room, most of them, enjoying the warmth of the fire. Daryl was at the dining table, fiddling with his crossbow, fixing up arrow heads. Carol was at the couch with Carol tucked up tight, flicking through an encyclopedia the young boy had found. Rick was talking about the final trip out for the winter, that should've taken place over a week ago, but was put aside in light of Carol's injury. He mentioned weapons, one final trip to a Walmart, when Carol spoke up asking about cooking ingredients.

"We could do with some more flour and things, if we could get them. Some rice and pasta too." She hardly looked up from her page in the book, where Carl was pointing at something that fascinated him.

"Weather's not too cold yet, not even a sign of frost, could we afford to hold off another couple of weeks, for Carol to come and pick those things out?" Hershel asked. Daryl's head shot up at the mention of her name. "Wound is healing nicely, I'd say two weeks would have you back to full fitness." Carol nodded to Rick, agreeing with the old man but she turned sharply when Daryl groaned. He thought he'd done it under his breath, but apparantly not.

"Something wrong, son?" Everyone turned to look at Daryl, who continued with polishing his bow.

"Think we should just stick to me, Rick, Glenn an' T-Dog on this one." He muttered, putting down his rag and gnawing on his fingernail.

"Why, exactly?" Her tone was icy, she looked at him, with confusion. "If we're waiting, I'll be fine. I won't be holding anyone back."

"Just not necessary." He kept his tone clipped. He was _not_ arguing with her in front of the others.

She looked at him, bewildered. She knew just how to make him feel as guilty as fuck. He looked away, continuing his meticulous cleaning, trying to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks.

"I think it's a sound plan. If we go to Walmart, we'll need more manpower, maybe Maggie'd like to come too." Rick looked to Maggie, who nodded her head firmly, despite Glenn's worried look. "We can pair up, cover more ground that way."

"Yeah, well look that fuckin' worked out last time." Daryl couldn't help but say it. Carol had made him promise over and over to drop the issue but it was always there, in the back of his mind. She got _stabbed_.

"Hey!" Maggie, jumped to Glenn's defense immediately, sensing the jab immediately.

"I'm sorry!" Glenn looked at Daryl rather than Carol as he said it. "I've said sorry a thousand times. If I could go back and change things-"

"If you could go back and change things, I would likely to be dead." Carol cut across him, her arm outstretched to silence him. "I got hurt. But I'm fine. If Glenn hadn't done what he did, I would be dead. Or undead, if you like." She spoke to the room but her eyes flickered back and forth to Daryl. "None of you were there, so none of you can pass judgement."

He recoiled at her words. So she was blaming him? Because he wasn't there? He should've been, he knew that. He turned his back to her for a few minutes and that happened. He knew it was his fault.

"I'm sick of talking about it. Go without me, go tomorrow if that's what you want." She picked herself up of the couch, ruffling Carl's hair before she left the room.

"Shit." He mumbled under his breath. He pushed his crossbow aside and followed her out of the room, leaving the rest of them discussing the plans for the scavenge.

She made it up the stairs pretty fast for someone who only had one fully functioning leg. He caught the door to her bedroom before it swung in his face.

"Just leave me alone." She told him, heading for the chest of drawers, hunting for her pajamas.

"No. I ain't doin' this to be a bastard. It's safer in here. You don't need to go." He walked right behind her, grabbing her by the shoulder to force her to look at him. She shrugged him off, pulling out the sleepwear and turning away from him.

"That right? Because the way I'm seeing it, seems like you don't have much faith in me."

"I just don't see the point in you riskin' your neck aswell!" He got right up in her face, he was angry now, why couldn't she see what he was trying to do?

"Oh! That's a new one. What happened to all that crap about learning to protect myself? I told you this is what I wanted. You agreed to show me. You can't take that back." He was yelling at her, but she refused to raise her voice. Fighting was all he knew, anger was the only way to solve problems in Daryl Dixon's world. She wouldn't fall for someone shouting at her. Not anymore.

"That was before!" He started to say something else and cut off abruptly.

"Before what?"

"Nothin'. It don't matter." He turned away now, heading for the bed.

"Before you felt that I was shit at it?" The swear word rolled off her tongue far too easily. Carol never cursed. Never saw reason for it. He must be rubbing off on her.

"No!" He couldn't answer her question because he didn't know how to say it. He didn't want her to go out because he didn't want to get hurt. Ever.

"I've spent my life taking orders from other people. He never gave me a choice. He never let me live." She couldn't bring herself to even say his name anymore. Her husband was someone she never wanted to remember. "I won't take anymore. I can't."

"Don't you fuckin' dare compare me to that fuckin' asshole, Carol! That bastard was a piece of shit who nearly damn well killed everythin' 'bout you!" He jumped up from the bed, pacing angrily, pointing his finger in her face.

He groaned in frustration, hand clutching at his hair before he stormed from the room, slamming the door so hard that the whole room shook.

Carol stared at the door for several minutes, before throwing herself onto the bed and bursting into tears.

TWDTWDTWD

Sleeping alone again was hard. She'd gotten used to his warm body wrapping itself round her. He ran hot, his skin always warm to the touch, which matched her perfectly, because he feet and hands were always freezing. No matter how they fell asleep she'd always wake up with him clinging to her like a limpet and she'd gotten used to it pretty fast.

She thought that she heard him come up the stairs in the middle of the night, but the door never opened and she assumed that she'd been dreaming when she woke up.

He was gone hunting almost all day. He came in through the side door of the house to avoid her in the kitchen, speaking only to Rick to confirm the plans for the next day before disappearing back outside to clean his kills. Carl brought them into the kitchen for her to prepare the evening meal. T-Dog had gone up to their room to call him for dinner but he never showed up, the plate going cold. When she went back to put some glasses in the sink, she noticed it had disappeared, so she knew he'd snuck down to avoid her.

She wanted to talk to him, but she overheard T-Dog talking to Rick about him and she thought it best to avoid him. Apparantly his mood was black with everyone, not only her. If he didn't come to her that night, she would speak to him in the morning.

Daryl wanted to tell her he was sorry. Sorry for raising his voice at her, sorry for making her feel like shit and sorry for being such a pussy that he couldn't tell her what he meant to say. But she compared him to Ed. It was like a knife in the gut. How could she think of him like that? Was he like her husband? Controlling and possessive? It didn't feel like that. He just wanted to keep her safe. He didn't know much about relationships. How it felt to love someone. He was pretty sure that for him, this was it.

He didn't sleep at all the night of the argument. He even got up at one point, to go see her but her words flashed through his mind as he crept up the steps. _I won't take anymore. _The thought made his fists curl so tight his bitten down nails dug into his flesh. He turned around and slept on the couch instead, putting as much space between them as possible.

He woke the others who were going scavenging before dawn, itching to get out of the house as soon as possible. Sensing his mood, they went, not wanting to anger the man further when he would be needed for the run.

Carol heard the van roaring to life just as the sun came up and she jumped up to look out the window, seeing the dust kicking up behind the vehicle as it sped off. She was furious. The plan was to leave after breakfast and she knew he had a hand in the matter in order to avoid her.

She was sick of this house. She was sick of being babied about and doing as she was told. She rifled through her drawers for something that would fit over her bulky bandage. She pulled out the red dress, tucked under heaps of other things and smoothed it out. She'd show him, she thought. She was going hunting.

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I may not update tomorrow. That irritating thing called socialising is removing me from the computer. I'm making a start on the next chapter now, if it goes fantastically well then you may strike lucky. If not, see you Saturday!


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: I was going to make this into a super long chapter but I guessed it would be like...epically long so I'll finish up tomorrow. I think this would be as good a place as any to cut it off anyway. Thank you for your kind words.

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She could barely feel the pull in her leg as she walked briskly towards the forest. Carol had made it out of the house in record time, successfully dodging Lori, whom she could hear vomiting in the bathroom. She kept a steady pace as she made her way through the trees. The creatures tended not to stray over to the part of the forest closest to the house, preferring to be closer to the river.

She knew the trail well. She couldn't track an animal like Daryl, who could see every footstep even when there was no tracks visible to the eye. Carol tended to rely on sight and sound. It worked fine for her, although she hardly ever made more kills than he did. Tracking came with years of experience and she had had merely months.

She found her first two kills fairly quickly, two fat grey squirrels, only a foot or two apart on the same tree. She took the second out before it even realised that the first had been killed. Stringing them up, she couldn't help but feel smug. She hadn't been out hunting for almost two weeks, but her aim was precise.

Every arrow shot released a little more anger. She never got angry before. Not really. She could never win a battle with Ed, so what was the point. It was never in her nature to fight back, even as a child. Daryl made her angry. Everytime she thought about him refusing to let her go out of the compound, it made her blood boil. It made her sad too. She always knew that he was trying to protect her, in his own little way. Initially she thought that he didn't think she was good enough to be out there, but she knew that wasn't true. He wasn't one for praise or stroking egos, but Daryl had told her more than once that she was good. So good, she surprised him. Maybe he just wanted to lock her away because he didn't know what else to do.

He made her happy too. So happy she could burst into song. There wasn't much joy to be had in this new world. Not now Sophia was gone. But in the darkest of nights, he was a beacon of light. They weren't having sex. They hadn't even kissed. She wondered if their relationship could even be classed as friendship some days. But he meant more to her than anybody else.

She made the decision, after they left Hershel's farm, that she wanted to survive. He reached out and gave her the tools. And now he gave her the reason. She wouldn't let that reason go over a stupid argument. She wouldn't let him run away. But she wouldn't give in either. She wasn't the same meek old Carol anymore. Just like he wasn't the ignorant, racist redneck. Things had changed.

She'd spent several hours out in the forest, judging by the sun and had almost a dozen animals strung to her thigh. They were beginning to weigh her down and she was going to aim for lucky number thirteen before heading back to the compound.

She spotted the hare through some low bushes and bent down to get a good look at it. She swore never to wear the stupid dress again. She'd scratched her legs on so many thorns that it looked like she'd been attacked. The wind kept blowing the hem up and it was damn cold. As she pulled another thorn out from her calf, it was then she heard the groaning from behind her. Her heart jumped to her throat, she could feel the blood pumping in her ears. Only one creature made a noise like that.

She looked behind her and contemplated making a run for it before it spotted her. She'd not faced a Walker alone since her first. One of the group had always been with her. Before she could make a decision, it stumbled through the trees, it's groaning increasing in volume when it spotted her. She drew her arrow back and released, it hit the Walker in the jaw, the force sending it stumbling against a tree trunk. She cursed and drew another but it regained balance and pursued her, the arrow poking from it's face at a grotesque angle. She dropped the bow and unsheathed her knife, taking a deep breath before running towards the Walker with as much speed her damaged leg could muster and slammed the knife in it's temple with every bit of strength that she had.

It plunged in so deep that she had to let it fall with the creature, crumpling to the ground quickly. She used her foot to dislodge both her knife and her arrow, racing back to retrieve her fallen bow. She stood and listened for a moment, but she couldn't hear any other footsteps.

She stepped past the fallen Walker, skirting round it as if it would jump up again, although she knew it wouldn't. It's clothes were wet. Soaking in fact. It had to have been in the river. She wasn't too far from the river edge, not even a hundred feet, but the trees were dense and she couldn't see anything in that direction. Then came another from the side of her. It moaned loudly on spotting her but it was slow to move, one leg contorted at an angle that suggested something had been broken. She fired the arrow easily, this time taking out the Walkers straight in the head. It has come from a direction nearest to the compound. It's clothes were not wet like the other. It had probably been wandering the forest for awhile. She retrieved the arrow again, worried now.

Daryl had mentioned before, about Walkers coming from across the river. What if there was more? She slung her bow over her back and looked up, searching for a suitable tree she could climb. One that was high enough would provide her with a good view of the river and possibly what was past the bank on the other side.

She chose one with plenty of low branches and made her way up it slowly, it caused her thigh a great deal of pain. She hated climbing trees. Every time she even thought about the distance between her and the forest floor, she felt a wave of nausea. Still, this was important. She gritted her teeth, stopping herself from crying out, she didn't to attract the attention of any potential threats on the ground.

She eventually got high enough to spot a building on the horizon. She didn't know what it could be. A library? Or maybe a college? It looked old, all stone bricks and ivy trailing up the walls. There were Walkers. Not too many, for the size of the building, but they weren't wondering aimlessly, they were heading in her direction. She looked down, peeking through the branches trying to find the river. Right there, at the water's edge, were maybe two dozen Walkers, all trying to cross. She could see one get pulled by the strong current, taking it swiftly down stream. But some were making it, gurning and groaning their way through through the waist-high water.

They were coming towards the compound. She wondered if they had spotted the smoke coming from the chimnies of the house. Unlikely she thought, but couldn't be sure. She had to let the others know. She began her descent down the tree, hissing as she caught her leg on a sharp branch, grazing her leg through her thin skirt. She pulled up the hem to look at the damage, she had split the would. She carried on regardless, hoping that there wasn't a Walker close enough to smell the fresh blood.

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Daryl stomped around Newtown like there wasn't a single Walker about the place. He was still angry and he couldn't help but take it out on any fucker that got in his way. Maggie coming on the run was a stupid fucking decision. Her and Glenn didn't stop talking the entire journey in and every time he glanced in his rearview mirror, the were cosying up to each other. It was irritating to the point where he wanted to stick an arrow in each of their heads.

It went faster than he would've liked. Partly because his anger made him quick on the mark, taking out targets with more risk to himself that luckily paid off. Partly because the others were so wary of his ferocious temper that they worked fast, eager to get back to camp and escape him.

Rick wouldn't let him drive back, insisting that T-Dog did it. He wanted to hurl abuse at the former sheriff, who usually was his second most tolerable member of the group, after Carol, but he settled for mumbling a few choice expletives under his breath.

T-Dog put his foot to the floor to get back to the compound earlier than usual. It had been a fairly successful run, a whole bag of ammo was found, a couple more axes and some knives. Everyone would now have at least two weapons at their disposal. Maggie found the cookery stuff they needed, as well as a little more in terms of medical supplies.

He would talk to her. He had decided. He didn't want her going out there, but he wouldn't stop her. If he forced her hand, he'd lose her anyway. The best he could do would to be by her side, every step of the way. He wasn't like Ed Peletier. He wasn't like Merle Dixon.

T-Dog hit the horn once when they approached the gate and it was opened almost immediately. They were all outside he noticed, apart from Carol. His eyes stopped at Lori. She was searching inside the van quickly, a look of worry written all over her face. As she made to call Rick, he knew instantly what was wrong. _Carol was missing_.

"Where the fuck is she?" He growled at the woman, picking his crossbow up from the floor of the passenger side.

"I thought maybe she'd gone with you. None of us have seen her. Her bow is gone too." Lori rushed to get the words out, stepping back from him. His blood boiled. Did any of these useless fuckers _ever_ notice her?

"Fuck!" He yelled. He turned back to Glenn, who stood behind him and pulled the pistol out of his hand. "What the fuck is wrong with you people?" He spat the words out in Lori's direction, but they were meant for everyone. Rick stepped between them, hands out in surrender.

"Stop. We'll get the guns and we'll go out. With that leg, I doubt she's gone very far. She knows her limits Daryl. She probably just wanted some breathing space."

"Fuck this." He muttered, turning on his heel. Fuck them. He'd find her himself.

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He spotted her tracks as soon as he got out the gate. He ignored Rick and Hershel's calls as he followed them into the woods. It took him a little while to get deep into the forest and he cursed with every step. She went way too far. He hardly ever went this deep himself.

He smelt Walker before he saw it and he loaded his bow ready to take the thing out. But when he reached the target, it was already on the floor. He kept his weapon poised, in case it was only dormant, as some of them were on occasion but realised quickly that it already been taken out, the contains of it's skull spilling onto the forest floor. She'd been here.

He whipped round, trying to find her tracks again when he saw the body of a second Walker. This was not fucking good news. He tried to find her tracks again, but they were all over the place, as if she was panicking, pacing the area. He heard rustling up ahead and raised his bow into the trees, a flash of red catching his eye.

She was wearing that dress. The one she picked on a whim, It whipped round her thighs as she climbed down the tree slowly, awkwardly, he noticed. She'd strained herself. She didn't notice him, focused on getting herself to the ground. He knew she hated climbing trees. He'd always made her do it anyway, to try and rid her of the fear.

"Where the fuck do you think you've been?" He spat out at her as she came down, only a few feet from the ground. She squeaked in surprised and stumbled and he reached out and caught her by the calf to help steady her.

She was out of breath, as if she had raced down the tree and he shouldered his bow to wrap his hands round her waist, taking her down from the last branch, dropping her gently to the ground.

"Walkers." She breathed at him wide-eyed, clutching the sleeve of his coat.

"Yeah, I saw." He groused at her, gesturing to the fallen undead behind him.

"No." She shook her head rapidly, tugging on his sleeve in the direction of the compound. "There's a herd, we need to get back to the house. They're trying to cross the river."

"What? How did you see? Did they spot you?" He asked the questions at rapid fire, shaking her off his sleeve so he could clasp her hand. He pulled her in the direction of the house as he spoke.

"No, they didn't." She took a deep breath, ignoring the pain in her leg as he dragged her along at breakneck speed. "One I took out was wet. I went up the tree and I could see them trying to cross the river, some are getting dragged by the current. There's maybe two dozen?"

He didn't say anything, just carried on pulling her to the compound. Eventually the pain got too much and she cried out.

"Stop! Daryl, you gotta slow down, my leg -" She yanked his hand, forcing him to stop with her.

He let go of her hand, taking her by the waist instead, helping her along that way.

"Don't think I am not goin' to fuckin' kill you when we get back." He shot at her, but he tightened his grip on her anyway, as they hot-footed it back to camp. He was so relieved that she was alright. Although, if they didn't get back soon and batten down the hatches in time, that might change.


	13. Chapter 13

Author's Note: Thank you for your reads and reviews. This is the penultimate chapter, the last one should be up tomorrow. :)

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By the time they reached the edge of the forest, only a hundred foot or so from the clearing nearest the house, he was all but carrying her. They remained silent, save from the occassional hiss of pain from Carol, attempting to keep an ear out for anymore Walkers.

They almost collided with Rick and T-Dog, both men had their hatchets raised, fearful at the noise they'd heard them make as they awkwardly made their way through the brush.

"Get in the house. Get the fires out!" Daryl ordered at the two of them. The two men looked back at the pair of them, bewildered. "Get in the fuckin' house! There's a herd on the way!" Daryl passed off his crossbow to T-Dog and the two men ran towards the house. Passing off the crossbow allowed him to free himself up to carry Carol properly into the compound.

T-Dog swung the heavy doors shut behind them, Rick had already run towards the house, hollering out to the group to batten down the hatches. He took the porch steps two at a time, dropping Carol gently on the kitchen table before slamming the kitchen door shut behind T-Dog. He slid the dead bolts into place before sliding over the cabinet that usually sat against the wall behind the door, blocking the exit.

Rick came back into the room as T-Dog left it, helping Daryl to put the kitchen fire out. Carol tried to regain her breath, pulling the string of carcasses from her belt. She felt like they belonged to a time from days ago.

"What happened out there?" Rick looked from Carol to Daryl and back again.

"She took out two Walkers. She saw across the river. Two dozen." Daryl watched Carol as he worked, seeing her lift up the hem of her dress to inspect the damage, although he couldn't see it for himself at this angle.

"There's a college or a library or something. There was more of them, but the river current was pulling them under as they tried to cross. But they're heading this way." Carol chipped in, sliding down from the table. She limped to the door and Daryl held out a warning hand, telling her to stop.

"If they don't see the smoke, they'll pass by." He muttered to Rick.

"They better not see it. That wall ain't built for herds." Rick retorted, brushing past Carol as he left the room. Carol tried to leave with him, intending to help board up the last of the windows, but Daryl caught her wrist.

"Shit, you're bleedin'." He picked her up and she gasped with shock at the sudden movement, but she was down on the table again before she could voice her protest.

He flicked up the hem off the dress and she squirmed with embarrassment. Blood seeped from her bandage, trailing down her calf. He pulled out his pocket knife to open the bandage quickly and cleanly. The wound had split, not the entire length, but most of it and he winced for her.

"What the hell were you thinkin'?" He growled at her.

"I was fine until I climbed the tree. I rushed to get down." She muttered, turning away at the sight of her leg. Daryl rifled under the kitchen sink, hunting out the alcohol and fresh bandages.

"You shouldn'ta been out there in the first place. Never on your own. And never with a fuckin' injury." He poured alcohol on the cloth and without warning, held her leg down and pressed it onto the wound. Carol let out a silent scream, her fingers digging painfully into his arm to make him remove it but he refused. "Gotta get it clean. Can't risk stitchin' up now in case we gotta get out of here quickly."

She released her nails from his skin at that, but kept hold of his arm.

"Don't you ever do that to me again." His voice was thick but harsh, the anger barely concealed. "I mean it Carol, don't you dare."

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "You can't keep me locked in the ivory tower. I won't do it." She whispered. He applied the gauze to her thigh and lifted her foot, bracing it against his own thigh so he could apply the bandage. She rushed to cover herself as Maggie raced into the room.

"They're comin' through the clearing. Daddy can see from your room, Carol. Just keep it down, alright?" She warned them in a whisper. Daryl rolled his eyes. Maggie did a double take when she saw Daryl wrapping Carol's wound.

"You alright?" She asked. "Need me to get my father?"

Carol shook her head. "I'll wait until the herd have passed." The younger girl nodded before fleeing the room.

"I ain't tellin' you can't ever go out." Daryl whispered, continuing their conversation. "It don't mean I have to like it. And it don't mean that you can risk your neck anymore than anyone else."

"Don't take this away from me. Please. You can't give me the power to protect myself and then try to take it away from me. I didn't know if I wanted to live before, Daryl."

His head snapped up from fastening the bandage upon hearing that.

"Before. I didn't know, not even when you gave me that bow. Not truly. But now I know. I want to live and I want to live well. As well as we can in this world." She brought her hand to his cheek. "I could never sit here waiting for you to come back every day, wondering if you were going to make it. Don't ask me to do that." She spoke softly, slowly, to get the words out as she meant to say them.

He rested his hands on the table either side of her, his face inches from hers and he stared at her, his gaze making her feel like she was under scrutiny. She could hear the pace of someone in the room above, adding to the tension. "Daryl, say somet-"

Without warning, he smashed his mouth against hers, an inelegant kiss that involved teeth and noses bashing in his haste to get to her. Her instinct was to pull away, she could hardly catch her breath, but he held her by the back of the neck and she submitted to his embrace, hands pawing at his shirt front to bring him closer. Finally, they found a rhythm, he brought his hands to her hips, shifting her to the edge of the table. It felt natural for her to wind her legs round his waist, for as much of him as possible to be touching her.

They broke apart suddenly at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Whoever is was though, didn't enter the kitchen, heading from the dining room instead. Carol turned back to Daryl, who was gazing at the door, pulling his jaw so he faced her.

"You're not like _him_. Not even a little bit." She knew that it played on his mind. She never intended for him to think that he was anything like her former husband. Because he couldn't be further removed from him.

He nodded once, putting his hands to her cheeks, kissing her again. Slower this time, softer. Carol didn't know how much time had passed, minutes, hours. The sun could've have set and risen and she wouldn't have known. Eventually, they pulled apart, the need for air finally getting to them.

"Don't ever go like that again." He repeated to her, his mouth brushing against her cheek.

"I won't." She breathed. "I promise." Her hands were at his belt, although she didn't try to undo it, she blushed at her brazen behaviour. She never wanted something so bad. He groaned as his hands slid under her skirt, grazing the top of thighs, sliding under the elastic of her panties clinging to her hips and resting there. The footsteps returned and Rick entered the room. They managed to take their hands back just as the door opened, although Daryl hadn't managed to separate himself from Carol entirely. Not that he wanted to. Damn Rick. And damn Carol, doing this to him _now_, the most inappropriate time ever. Rick glanced at their tangled limbs, but didn't comment.

"They've passed. Two are lingering near the entrance. If we wait a little longer, make sure the herd are out of earshot and then we can go out and take the stragglers out." He informed them. Daryl nodded and the other man left the room.

Carol unwrapped herself from Daryl so that she could look at the thorn she'd noticed that was still embedded in her knee. Her legs looked hideous, mottled from cold, covered in scratches and bruises.

His gaze followed hers and he rubbed his thumb over one of her scratches.

"I know I told you to wear this damn dress, but I didn't mean to wear it climbin' trees." He smirked.

She laughed lightly, pulling the hem down to cover her bandage. "It's going back in the drawer and staying there, don't you worry." She told him, finally taking the time to unzip her leather coat.

"I can think of a few occassions for it." He told her, fisting the material in his hand.

She kissed him lightly and slid from the table. "We'll see about that."

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She asked him to carry her to her attic room that night. She hadn't been in there all afternoon, everyone had been using her windows as a watch point and she was eager to get out of the silly red dress.

He didn't offer her help as he watched her hop up the stairs, but he stood behind her, ready to catch her if she stumbled. She knew it took all his strength to hold back from scooping her up, but this was his way of compromising.

She made it up the first few steps, so slow it was painful for Daryl to watch. Most of the others had drifted off to sleep, they were the last two awake and last time he checked the clock, it was gone two am. Finally, she conceded defeat, turning around. "Give a girl a hand, Mr Dixon?"

Daryl gave a small smile, sliding his hands to her back and her thighs, taking the steps two at a time.

He set her down on her bed and she pulled her pajamas out from under her pillow as he set to shutting the door and pulling down the blinds of the skylights, not without one final check of outside of course, not that much could be seen in the dark.

She hesitated at whether to ask him to turn around so she could undress. It seemed silly after their display at the kitchen where if it hadn't been for Rick interrupting them, she was pretty certain she'd have let him take her on the kitchen table.

Daryl kept his eyes averted anyway, seeing her slide the dress off only in the corner of his eye. She was beautiful. He'd never looked at woman and thought that before. He kicked off his boots and slid into the bed with her. She looked exhausted, her eyelids heavy as she reached out to him.

He shuffled close to her, hooking his leg over her good one, his knee brushing against that place between her thighs. She instinctively arched closer to him, as if begging him to take her. Her eyes were closed, it seemed as if she were in that place between being awake and dreaming.

"You're fallin' asleep on me." He breathed in her ear, his arm tightening around her waist.

"I'm awake, I'm awake." She protested. Arm reaching out to his face, her hand tangling itself in his hair.

"Don't. Go to sleep." He murmured to her. She made a noise that sounded like an agreement and before he even had time to close his own eyes, she was gone.

His mind flickered back to the day they came back from her first trip into Newtown. She asked him if there was anything he desired and he told her there was nothing. Truth was, this was it.


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: The last one. Thank you ever so much to everyone who read, reviewed and tumblr'd this story. I literally get a little bit teary! I genuinely didn't expect such a lovely response. Thank you.

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It had been six days since he'd last seen her. The longest he'd been without her since they met, last summer. It could've been sixty days. It felt like it. Staying outside Newtown was a decision the entire group supported, but it did present some difficulties.

Newtown wasn't all that big. It didn't take long to strip it clean of everything they could, but they still needed more. That meant travelling further out, over days, taking a van and filling it to the top. It meant more danger but it gave bigger rewards and it meant not having to go back out of the area for several weeks.

Carol usually went with him and this was the first time in what seemed like forever, when she didn't. Lori gave birth to a baby girl just four weeks ago and she needed Carol with her. Daryl wondered how she would cope, helping Lori with her baby, when the loss of her own little one was still so painful. But she did it magnificently. She stayed away from the Grimes family in those first few days, giving them time to adjust to the new life in their world. Turned out though, Lori was finding it all very difficult, baby blues, Carol had mentioned and she'd stepped in, no questions asked, to help her.

She was a natural at it. The coddling and the feeding. Getting up several times during the night. It came easy, despite it being several years since she'd last done it. The baby had taken to coming into their attic room every few nights, giving Lori and Rick a break. He grumbled about it at first, not want to share her with anyone else. Or getting his sleep disturbed.

Seeing her with the little one wasn't so bad. It made her happy. Carol being happy made him happy. Waking up next to her, or all over her as he was prone to doing, with the little one cooing next to them could even be pretty good. He wished that the world wasn't so fucked up. He would gladly give her motherhood again if it weren't.

The drive home seemed to take forever. They were only 30 miles out from the house, but it may as well have been 300 miles with the blocked roads, Walkers trailing after them and even having to avoid a group of the living.

Avoiding even those still alive became second nature now. After Randall, other people made them all nervous. It wasn't in Daryl's nature to avoid confrontation but he did it instinctively now. They all did. They had people to go back to. She was waiting for him at home.

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By the fifth day of the run, Carol felt anxious. There was no deadline for their return date, but the unspoken rule was never more than a week. She, Daryl, Rick and Hershel had made a run that lasted ten days once, and the greeting they received on their return was a mixture of sheer relief and anger that they had left the group so worried. Never again.

Baby Judy was a welcome distraction. Lori Grimes was not. It worried her, it worried them all, how she couldn't seem to take to the baby. Judy wasn't particularly trying, the screaming and crying came at a minimum, for which they were all grateful but Lori struggled to breastfeed and Carol knew it made her feel like a failure. She tried to reassure the other women that it was perfectly normal, they lived such a stressful life after all and they had plenty of formula but Lori couldn't be swayed.

Rick didn't understand, he tried, God love him, but he didn't. He took over as much of the responsibility for the little one as he could, but he was their leader. He needed his head and hands free to deal with the pressures of taking on the role.

She missed hunting. She'd promised Daryl she wouldn't go out alone. She wouldn't break that promise. Rick was the only person he would allow to go out with her but he often wasn't available. Besides, he made too much noise and scared the game away. She missed the warmth of him in her bed. He took up far too much space, fidgeted constantly and was all over her like a rash but she was used to it. The bed was big without him.

She was making bread in the kitchen when she heard the distant hum of the engine. She threw down the dough in her hand, flour flying into the air as she wrenched open the kitchen door. From her spot at the porch, she could see the white van bounding up the dirt track. Her heart seemed to stop beating.

Rick and Hershel were already at the gates, moving the locks to swing the doors open and she heard the footsteps of the rest of the house coming down to see what was going on.

"Are they all there?" Beth murmured at her side. It was always the first question. Carol squinted into the distance but she couldn't make out who was driving.

"I can see Maggie." Carol answered her and the younger girl sighed audibly in relief. Carol couldn't seem to move her feet as the van entered the compound, the heavy doors slamming behind it. Finally, she could see through the window shield of the van and he was there, behind the wheel. Her heart began to pound again.

The van lurched to a stop and Beth ran to the passenger door to greet her older sister. Daryl took his time getting out of the van, greeting Rick with a shake of their hands and a pat on the back.

Daryl searched in the direction of house for her. She was standing at the kitchen door, apron on, covered to her elbows in flour. He smiled at her and she grinned back.

He ignored the calls from behind him as he marched over to her, almost racing up the porch steps.

"Hey." He greeted softly, they were so close she could feel his breath tickling her face.

"Hey yourself." She pressed her lips to his and he responded, crushing his mouth against hers, winding his fingers in her hair. It was as long as his now, curling at the nape of her neck and over her forehead. "I missed you." She told him when they finally broke apart.

His lips curled into a smile but before he could respond, Carl was bounding up the steps, calling out to Carol. "Look what Glenn found!" He thrust a handful of comic books between them, waving them so enthusiastically Carol couldn't even look at them properly.

"That's great!" She responded enthusiastically, as he pushed his way between them, back into the house, forcing them apart.

"Carol! Come see this!" Maggie called to her from the open doors of the van and Daryl groaned in frustration, irritated that their moment was broken.

"Later." She murmured to him, brushing her hand against his jaw before moving off the porch to see what Maggie wanted. He stared after for a moment, watching her greet the young girl with a hug and a genuine smile. She turned to look into the van and laughed with delight when she saw what was there.

Not for the first time, Daryl wondered how a dumbass fucker like him landed up with someone so amazing like Carol Peletier.

TWDTWDTWD

The celebrated the return of the rest of the group with alcohol and junk food. It would be the one night where they didn't ration anything, where everyone ate whatever took their fancy. She watched with horror with Lori when she witnessed Carl eat a whole spray can of cheese, the nozzle directly in his mouth. It made her feel sick to watch him but the others only laughed as the gooey yellow stuff spilled from the sides of his mouth.

Daryl had been topping up her glass with Southern Comfort all night, laughing at her choking and spluttering as she necked a shot of the liquid with Glenn and T-Dog. She preferred wine, but he insisted this was a proper Southern drink and when she wasn't chugging it back like water, she found herself enjoying the taste.

There was no time to be alone together that day. Maggie, Glenn, T-Dog and Daryl all had a chance to clean up, whilst everyone else emptied the van, before beginning the preparations for the evening meal.

By midnight though, almost everyone had retired for the night, dirty dishes lay abandoned all over the kitchen, to be dealt with the next morning. She was the last one to leave the kitchen, unable to resist putting away the uneaten food so that it didn't spoil.

"I ain't seen you in almost a week woman, gonna leave me hangin' or what?"

Carol jumped and spun around. Daryl was leaning against the door frame, one eyebrow raised. She slammed the drawer shut before meeting him at the threshold. The booze was slowly wearing off, although she still felt a little lightheaded.

"You only want me for one thing, Daryl Dixon." She winked as she slipped past him and he almost tripped up to catch up with her. His hands roamed beneath her shirt as he followed her up the stairs, warming her cool skin.

"Yeah, you make a good apple pie." He murmured against her back, tighting his hold on her to spin her round on the staircase, face pressed into her chest. She gasped in mock indignation, tugging on the back of his hair but she pressed herself closer anyway, winding her legs around his waist, letting him carry her up the stairs to the attic.

He started tugging her clothes off before he'd even shut the bedroom door, pressing soft kisses over her face, neck and shoulders as he carried her over the the bed. She giggled as he hurried to pull off his boots, tangling himself up in his pants as she lay there waiting for him. He growled at her, running his hands over her, nipping softly with his teeth behind her ear.

"I fuckin' missed you." He breathed against her skin as he entered her and all she could do was gasp softly in response, clutching at him, whatever she could reach.

"I missed you too." She finally managed to pant out, minutes later, arching her slick body against his.

TWDTWDTWD

Dawn rose and as was habit, so did she. Daryl was using her breasts as a pillow, his breath hitting her skin rhythmically. She pulled one arm out from underneath his, bringing it to his hair. He shifted with the contact, groaning slightly.

"My fuckin' head is poundin'." He mumbled into her skin, before shifting himself so his face was level with hers.

She chuckled and kissed him. He wasn't so ill that he couldn't respond fervently. "Poor you." She mocked lightly, breaking away. "Come on, let's go hunting." He groaned again, but she pulled away, rooting in the drawer for clean clothes for both of them.

"It'll do you good. Some fresh air. I'll cook you up an _amazing_ breakfast when we get back." She tempted him, throwing a shirt his way. He sighed but got up anyway, dressing quickly and handing her her bow.

"You're lucky I fuckin' love you." He grumbled at her as he shrugged on his jacket. It was true. She was worth a thousand hangovers, a million nights with a crying baby or unlimited trips into Walker-riddled cities for supplies. His woman of worth.

She beamed at him and kissed him again and he took her hand and lead her down the stairs.


End file.
